


Daydreaming Didn't Cover This

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: (bc it was written years before ds3 came out), Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Gen, Multi, Not Darksiders 3 Compliant, Pre To End Game, Slow Burn, Team as Family, The Slowest Goddamn Burn, Transferred from FFnet, reader swears a lot, theyre just Like That
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: You'll admit while playing Darksiders you spent a fair amount of time wondering what it would be like to travel with War and try to awkwardly flirt your way into his heart. Unfortunately you never really considered how hard it would be to stay alive





	1. A Beginning, Sort Of

**Author's Note:**

> the longest fic i've ever written, now on ao3!
> 
> For people familiar with this fic; this is not a rewrite, although minor edits will be made as i'm transferring over chapters (typos, little things). I want to keep it pretty much the same  
> -I Will be finishing this fic!! I'm not going to abandon it after pouring my whole heart into it  
> -thank you
> 
> for new readers; hello!! This is an older fic of mine (started on 6/29/2015), which means up until 20 ish chapters depending on whether I decide to split them differently, this is all from ffnet.  
> -i hope you stick around  
> -thank you

You don't know how long you've been here, or how you came to be in this situation, but you're starting to get hungry. You considered going foraging quite a few times, but you're much too frightened to leave your little safe house (it it can even be called that).

You nervously tiptoe towards the edge of roof you've claimed as your own, looking down at what can only be called ruins. Far below you are... Creatures, the likes of which you've only ever believed to be in video games.

One had scratched you when you first arrived, but even with your mind clouded over and throughly confused you had managed to grab your pistol and kill it. Others had come after you when the shot rang out, but thankfully they don't seem very intelligent. You climbed your way up here, using your limited rock climbing skills when the stairs weren't viable.

After making it to this arguably safe area, you promptly collapsed, thanking every god you know that you had gotten a gun and concealed weapons permit after moving away from your parents. Most of your friends thought it was a bit overly cautious of you. Showed them.

You slowly sit back down, resisting the urge to dangle your feet over the edge. You think your preteen self would love to see you in a post apocalyptic setting on a roof, kicking your feet. 

Your preteen self was kind of a dumbass though. Your current self is also probably a dumbass compared to your future self. Theoretically there's also multiple timelines, hundreds of versions of you making slightly different decisions that split it.

You wonder what the fuck kind of decision led to this. You glare down at the demonic creatures disdainfully, tightening your grip on the handgun.

"Ugly motherfuckers, aren't they?" A voice says, sounding directly behind you.

You spin as quick as you can manage, getting up on your knees and aiming for their chest.

"Woah, there, little one. Getting a little ahead of yourself there." They taunt, not deterred in the slightest by your tiny gun. You take in the steel mask and strange armor, and actually recognize them.

"Strife?" You ask, tilting your head curiously.

He mimics the motion, seemingly amused by your shock. "In the flesh, tiny. The real question is how the hell you know that."

"The real question is what the fuck I'm doing here, actually." You correct, lowering your weapon and opening staring at him. "Also why are you here, instead of like War?"

"Why? You gotta preference?" He laughs.

"I have a thing for arrogant fuckboys." You joke, thankful that it's Strife. He seems a bit softer than the others. Or maybe it's just his sense of humor that gives you that impression.

This makes him snort, which then becomes a full-on laugh when you smile at him. Shaking his head as if he can't believe you just said that, he says, "Maybe you humans aren't so bad." He takes a step towards you, "But unfortunately this isn't a social call."

You blink, your smile turning into a confused pout. "What is your mission?"

"To take you back to the council. Apparently you're a threat to the balance." He shrugs, summoning up his horse (which you can't for the life of you remember the name of). The great horse stamps the ground, and much to your embarrassment, you recoil. Strife chuckles as he gracefully mounts, holding out his hand. "Come on then."

"...Fine." You hesitantly grab his huge hand. Not as if you have much of a choice. He yanks you up easily, and you deliberately bite down on your bottom lip to keep from squeaking.

"Scared?" He teases, letting you position yourself comfortably in front of him.

"You realize you're sort of a monster compared to me, right? How tall are you?" You respond, the taste of coper flooding your mouth as the horse starts to run. He easily jumps over the gapes between the buildings, apparently already knowing where to go.

Strife shrugs, "You should see my true form."

"I'd imagine its similar to War's." You hum.

"And what do you know about my brothers true form, little human?" He asks, rather cynically. You understand his skepticism.

"A lot. Maybe that's why the council thinks I'm a danger to the balance? What's happened so far? Has War been accused of aiding the demons?" You ask curiously, tiling your head back to look him in the eyes.

He pauses, apparently startled. "Yes. He has a few more months of imprisonment before the council gives him the actual punishment."

Well, that's no fun.

"So all the humans are already screwed?"

"Yes. Although that's not the term I would use." He says, turning his attention back to their destination. "We've gotta pass through a portal to reach the council, so I'd prepare myself."

"How? Meditation?" You reply dryly, leaning forward to cautiously run your fingers through the horse's fiery mane. "How come this doesn't hurt?"

"Portals can be... Unsettling to mortals. You might be... what's the word? Unconscious? Knocked out!" Strife explains distractedly, reaching around you to pet his mount. "As long as you remain an ally, Grief will not harm you."

"Grief. Nice to meet you." You say, introducing yourself as well. 

Grief knickers in reply, apparently understanding your words. Rad.

"That is so cool." You breathe, curling your hands into fists excitedly.

Strife snorts in amusement, muttering something in an unfamiliar language and setting his extended hand down on your leg. "Hold on."

"Wh-" You let out an ungodly shriek as Grief jumps off another rooftop, this time without a building to catch him. You grab Strife's hand in what would be a very painful grip if he were human, every muscle in your body tensing for impact. Strife wraps his free arm around your middle, pulling you against his chest.

It's only a few seconds, maybe not even that, but it seems like much longer until Grief lands. It's surprisingly graceful and the horse absorbs most of the shock.

"Oh my god." You breathe, heart beating a mile a minute.

Once you begin to calm down you realize you can feel Strife wheezing with laughter behind you. "Are you okay, little human?" He gasps, pressing the forehead of his mask on your shoulder as if he needed to catch his breath.

"You're such a dick." You growl, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I wanted to see what'd you do." He explains lamely.

"Have a heart attack!?" You accuse.

"Yes. Precisely. You're much too powerful for me to kill any other way." His voice drips with sarcasm.

You sorta wanna punch him in the face.


	2. Hot Lava Treatment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the opposite of relaxing

The Council isn't nearly as terrifying as Strife made them seem, to be perfectly honest. Although not as terrifying as expected is still _pretty scary,_ despite the fact that they're just really big heads in a sea of lava with irritatingly loud voices.

The only real problem you have with this situation is how hot it is.

You twist your fingers together nervously as you stand before the council, Strife awkwardly sitting off to the side to 'await farther instruction' while they quite literally grill you.

"Explain your presence in this universe, human!" The middle growls, apparently under the assumption you voluntarily came to be in this situation.

Frowning, you tilt you head in confusion. "What? You think- your guess is as good as mine. I have no idea how the hell I ended up here, although it does make sense that it would disrupt the balance... I never ended up finishing the second game because I was playing it on my friend's system, which is really a shame because following Death's story line was really interesting! But I _do_ know the first game pretty well, so."

You have a serious problem with nervous rambling. And by that, you mean sickeningly truthful word vomit whenever a situation becomes remotely intimidating.

At least you didn't mention how much you adore Death's sass, which you're sure Strife would comment on. He'd probably tell Death too, just to see his reaction. You would be beside yourself with embarrassment.

There's a long pause, the council all rumbling in an unfamiliar, ancient sounding language. You shift from one foot to the other and back, stopping when the movement makes you dizzy. You hold your hand up experimentally, finding it to be shaking even worse than earlier. Probably a combination of your hunger and being scared witless.

"They are ill." The head on the left booms, taking you off-guard.

You snap to attention, subconsciously pressing your hand against your abdomen. "I'm just... Tired, actually. And hungry. I couldn't really find any food topside."

"It is deeper than that, otherworldly human." The left replies condescendingly.

"Or I'm just fucking starving." You purse your lips, looking down at the molten floor.

"They cannot remain here." It continues, completely disregarding you.

"Not without our assistance." The one directly in front of you declares, sounding much too smug. You narrow your eyes, realizing it must think it has the upper hand in this.

Because it does, the more reasonable side of you hisses.

You jerk your chin up, trying to seem fearless. "What are you talking about?"

"Your life force is already being depleted. You will die within a matter of days, unless of course, we help you stabilize in this universe." The right explains clinically. "Your body is already beginning to shut down, and the lack of nourishment is not helping."

You blink, mentally going back to when you first arrived here. It couldn't have been more than a few days, although the overcast skies didn't help keeping track. You were significantly weaker now, but you had filed that into the whole dehydration and hunger thing.

"And what would you have me do in return for 'assisting' me?" You finally ask, knowing there has to be a catch.

"What do you have to offer, human?" The middle spits, as if they don't already have something in mind. Or maybe they're honestly wondering what such an insignificant human could do. It's not one person can bring back the third kingdom.

You defiantly straighten your shoulders, firing back, "Information. I know what you've got planned for the youngest Horseman, and endgame ain't exactly in your favor."

You really really hope they can't call your bluff.

Then again, it's not like you're lying. War does sort of trigger the actual apocalypse and murder the Council's leash holder. Poor Watcher totally deserved it though.

The Council roars with indignation, the lava in front of you flying up. Thankfully, none of it hits you, but you do take a few steps backwards. Moving makes your dizziness worse.

"You believe yourself to be in a position of power, human!?" The middle demands. This one seems to have a thing for reminding you of your humanity, you note.

"Well, you are talking to the entirety of the Third Kingdom." You reply lightly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself focused. "And one with knowledge of the future!"

" _Supposedly_." The left hisses.

"Prove yourself."

"Prove what? My knowledge? For starters, War jumped the gun nearly a hundred years ago and was subsequently squashed by Straga, that annoying son of a bitch." You curse Straga passionately, remembering how absolutely ridiculous his tower puzzles were. "And now he's imprisoned and awaiting your judgment. It that enough proof?" You have to force yourself not to add wrongfully imprisoned, but that would be a bit much, you think.

They start mumbling in that language again, the sound making your head pound. You sway on your feet, the fiery sea in front of you becoming fuzzy.

"We will keep you alive for now, and you will swear loyalty to us in return." They say all at once, bringing you back.

You try to blink away your fatigue (although it doesn't work well), looking up at the council expectantly. "How?"

"Step forward, human." The middle orders.

You look at the small pit of lava, not quite understanding. "Excuse me?"

"Step forward and prove yourself loyal to the Charred Council." It repeats, now sounding mildly amused.

_Oh fuck_. You think miserably, going through your options. There's really no way out of this, is there?

You take a single step forward, keeping a tight hold on your panic. You can do this, you cheer half-heartedly. You don't give yourself any more time to mull over your choices, jumping into the pit without hesitation.

It's thicker than water, but nonetheless swallows you nigh instantly. Wrapping around your limbs and pulling into its rough embrace, it fills you with a suffocating sense of warmth. It's not... Pleasant by any means, but its also not mind-searingly painful as you expected.

As if response to this thought, the lava hikes up the heat. _Dammit_ , you think. It tears your arms away their position curled around your midsection, white hot as it curls up your stomach.

You want to cry out, but the idea of opening your mouth while engulfed in lava seems horrid. You're not even sure why you're not asphyxiated yet... Hopefully that didn't jinx it. You shudder at the thought.

Thankfully the heat around your stomach dissipates after a few moments, leaving only a very heavy feeling, and tosses you out. You land in a heap a few feet away, taking large gulps of air and trying not to sob in relief.

"That will be all for now, human. The Watcher's will provide sustenance for you." The heads tell you.

You do notice that the sound no longer makes your head pound, but you're more preoccupied with being on solid ground. It was a very short little bath, you know, but nonetheless traumatizing. You wrap your arms around your waist, startled by the metal chain now adorning it. _So that's what they meant._

"Strife, you will take them back to the Horseman's realm in the mean time. Neither of you may speak of their 'information'." They continue, ignoring your state.

You let out a pathetic whimper as Strife scoops you up, and somewhere in your mind you're cringing.

"Shush, little one." He murmurs, easily holding you with one arm. "You're perfectly fine."

You carefully lay your head on his chest, concentrating on calming yourself. It's easier after you cross the portal, the cool air a welcome reprieve.

"Better?" Strife asks after a pause, sounding much less tense.

"Arguably." Your voice cracks.

"Gotta admit I've never seen 'em do that to a human. A Horseman, definitely, but you?" He responds conversationally.

You let out a breathless laugh, looking up at him curiously. "Thank you?"

He shrugs, reminding you that you're in his arms. "Just an observation. You're branded now, kid."

"I gathered that." You hum, glancing around. There's no windows that you can see, and both the floor and walls are made of hard stone, the portal positioned as if its a door opening into a large, spacious room. It's rather chilly, but at the moment that's a plus. "Home sweet home, or what?"

"Or what." He says shortly, also taking in your surroundings. "This is our realm, for the most part. We stay here between missions and... personal things, you could say. It's pretty rare for all of us to be here, so don't get your hopes up."

You smile confidently, "Too late. I'm totally gonna meet all four of y'all."

"Humans." He sighs, moving to put you down.

You keep on hand on his arm as you steady yourself, very pleased to note you're no longer shaking like a leaf. Apparently your bath was also to 'stabilize' you. Probably not a permeant fix, but you're happy anyway.

"So..." Strife starts, sounding honestly perplexed. "What do humans do exactly?"

You snort. "That is, like, the vaguest question I have ever been asked."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the oc i personally see reader as is featured in one of my other fics!!   
> also a fun fact: i welcome readers to see the human as whoever they want!! if reader is you, great! if reader is one of your ocs, wonderful!


	3. Another Horseman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentions of nightmares & anxiety attacks, but Strife and the human hit it off as friends so there is hurt And comfort  
> -Fury calls the human/reader an "it" precisely Once bc shes rude  
> -and the human gets burned

The next week passes by lazily, with Strife keeping you company. He's... Quite the character, in your opinion. You've met several Watchers too, none of which you believe are _the_ Watcher, whom you usually refer to as Shadow.

They all seem pretty nice too, if not impatient and extremely critical. Strife nearly shot one yesterday, but you managed to stop him from doing so. His scowl nearly had you running back to your bedroom though. He _can be_ pretty terrifying.

However, he can also be very sweet, especially when you wake from a nightmare screaming bloody murder. The realization that you are in fact in Darksiders is... Amazing on the one hand, and absolutely terrifying on the other. You're just... You, after all. _A 'weak but cunning' human_.

And the now horribly realistic demons you saw topside and your knowledge of the future won't allow you a good night's sleep. Strife is always up though, which you're extremely thankful for. He's even started trying to help your aim in an attempt to give you peace of mind, although you can't use either of his guns without the kickback sending you to the floor. It never fails to make him laugh.

You never thought you'd be such fast friends with him, to be honest. It's definitely welcome at this point. Anything to stop yourself from obsessing over the future you may or may not inadvertently change just by being here.

The Watchers are also very good at finding things, which also helps keep both you and Strife entertained. You _cannot_ believe they've never heard of video games. They've literally had thousands of years of time to have an industrial revolution. It took humans, what? Two hundred years to go from candlesticks and letters to solar-power and instant communications?

_Shameful_ , you think, turning your attention back to the entertainment in question.

In front of you is an insanely well preserved TV set, along with a wii (that sometimes freezes) and several games. Honestly you didn't expect this much when you simply requested 'entertainment' from the Watchers. When asked _how?_ they laughed and said you don't want to know. You're still not sure if they were joking or not.

You're currently trying to play smash bros, and Strife refuses any lessons aside from the barest bones (ie how to move and attack). You've sent him flying of screen quite a few times, much to your amusement and his annoyance. There's also two CPU's on the lowest difficulty, but those are also easily dispatched.

"Are you havin fun?" You laugh, making Strife hiss with irritation.

"Fuck this game! I hit you, and I died!" Strife snarls, although thankfully he's not really angry.

"We traded hits, and you had a higher percentage." You giggle, your on screen counter part doing a taunt. "It's to be expected though, I mean you're a total newbie. _Maybe_ if you tie my wrists together you'll win." You're just messing with him at this point, pressing your lips together to keep from smiling.

He goes eerily quiet, not even moving his character.

You pretend you can't feel his glare drilling a hole in your temple. "Strife?" You ask after a few beats.

"Good idea." He finally chuckles. You don't like how smug he sounds one bit, glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes.

You have absolutely no time to react before he's yanking you into his lap, dropping your remote in shock. "Strife!" You screech as he cages you against his chest. "What the hell!?"

"Your idea." He hums. He settles down crisscross to accommodate you, his hands ending up resting on your legs, and seemingly completely oblivious to your frame of mind.

Which is mostly composed of internal screaming and the phrase " _I am in_ Strife's _lap right now. Holy shit."_

It takes you a while to get your mouth to work, and the words are strung together with shock. "I didn't mean literally! Or like- this!" You snap, knowing this no reason to try and escape. He's a Horseman after all. An annoying, overly literal, and apparently competitive Horseman at that.

"Look at that!" He cheers, laying his head on top of your almost affectionately. It would've been cute if not for the mask digging into your skull. You're also suddenly extremely aware of how big he is in comparison to yourself. And how uncomfy armor is. _No wonder he's always in a mood_.

You brush that thought off and look at the screen as requested, finding your character to be reappearing on the little platform. "I died?" You huff.

"And I killed you." He answers happily.

"You're a dirty cheater." You hiss. You're not _really_ angry, but he doesn't have to know that.

"I consider myself a fairly clean cheater." Laughing, he continues to beat up your immobile character.

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. _What a big fucking nerd_. You think, moving to press the 'A' button for him.

"How'd you do that?" He asks immediately, handing you the controller.

"Are you going to let me actually teach you this time, or what?"

He snorts. "Fine. Teach me, o' wise human."

You do just that, eventually just switching to the 'adventure' mode and grabbing your own remote again. Strife is much nicer when he's not trying to beat your score, you learn. He still makes some hilarious mistakes and blames you though.

It isn't until a few more hours creep by that he suddenly goes rigid and growls something in an unfamiliar language. His grip on you becomes acutely painful, but you really doubt he's doing it purposefully.

"Strife?" You ask curiously, tilting your head back to look at him.

"Somebody's home." He replies.

You pause, your mind not comprehending his words. "What?"

"One of my siblings has returned." He reiterates, his disdain evident.

"Oh... Cool." You say simply, looking back at your game. "Are we still playing or...?" You ask carefully, wanting the relaxed Strife back. As stoked you are to learn that you'll probably meet another Horseman soon, you think reclaiming Strife's good mood is more important. As tentative and  _unconventional_ as your friendship with him is, comforting him when he's distressed seems only fair. Plus, an annoyed nephilim doesn't bode well for a delicate human. 

He pauses, very slowly loosening up again. "I suppose." He nods.

You both return to the game, the mysterious returning Horseman all but forgotten as Strife jumps off a cliff to check for treasure and ends up dying. Your laughter completely drowns out the sound of heels on stone.

Strife doesn't seem surprised when Fury appears in the doorway though, while you freeze up. _Oh my god_.

"Strife?" She asks, titling her head to the side and eyeing the two of you with confusion.

"The one and only." Strife answers flatly, nudging your leg. You pause the game instead of ignoring Fury like he seems to be planning on.

"Who... Is this?" Her eyes brows furrow.

You grin excitedly, willing yourself to keep still. "I'm... A Seer? The Council sorta bought me here, so yeah. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

You're not the most articulate under pressure.

"What is a _human_ doing _alive_? Strife, what is going on?" She's leaning down next to you in a hot second, brushing her fingers over you cheek. The motion isn't affectionate, rather mirroring that of a kid faced with something sparkly. You don't like it. "And why are you cuddling it?"

"I'm not an it." You protest lightly, grinding your teeth. "And I can cuddle whoever the hell I want." You mean for it to be playful, but it comes out more sharp. Vicious, if you're generous. 

Strife laughs, while Fury looks downright startled.

"I... did not mean to offend," She says, one side of her mouth tilting upward. "It comes as a surprise to find my brother so close to a human, of all beings. Strife has never one for affection."

You pointedly lean farther into Strife's hold, pouting childishly. "I am. And as for why I'm here, the Council won't allow me to get into the details. But... It has to do with War." Your chain begins to heat when you mention War, just a warning this time.

You learned your new belt is at least semi-sentient only a few hours after arriving in the Horseman's realm, when you accidentally mentioned War obtaining a replica of Mercy later on. You probably still have the scorch marks. Nasty business, really.

"War? What of him?" Fury demands, narrowing her eyes.

"I can't tell you." Avoiding her gaze, you look down at Strife's hands. "I want to, but..."

Strife says something in what you think must be the nephilim's language, sounding starkly different than what the council used. _It's... Smoother_ , you think. Not as many harsh syllables and lacking the rumbly council noise. You prefer this one.

Fury answers in the same language, moving to settle down on the floor next to the both of you.

It gets harder and harder to ignore your anxiety as the conversation continues, noticeably worse than usual because you can't understand a word they're saying.

_He's probably just explaining the situation_ , you remind yourself. _Explaining that you're supposed to change War's fate in the Council's favor, potentially dying in the process, and more than likely stabbing him in the back in order to stay in line with Shadow and the Council._ You'll have to double cross _War_ , your favorite character.

The more reasonable side of you demands you stop worrying, but unfortunately panic is much more dominant. You know you're driving yourself into a anxiety attack, but damn if your panic doesn't make a good point.

"Hey, kid." Strife says, his voice sounding much farther away than it should. 

You make a strangled noise in reply, shaking your head.

"Dammit." He curses. You're dimly aware of him shifting you around, not really paying attention at this point. "Hey. Look at me." He orders, tilting your face up.

Blinking in confusion, you focus on his bright eyes.

"You want a story?" He asks, quite gently for Strife.

You recognize this as an attempt to distract you, and abruptly realize he's worried about you. You're not sure how to feel about that. After a split second of deliberation, you nod.

"Have I told you what I used before I got Redemption and Mercy yet?" He prompts.

It takes you a minute to realize he actually expects an answer, even if he does know he hasn't told you that particular story. "...No." You say slowly, concentrating on his eyes and the way he's running his thumb over the back if your hand. It's harder than it sounds with most of you still panicking.

He launches into a long tale of how he came to find his guns, explaining he used to use a "ridiculously limited sword" and various long ranged weapons, including a bow. The mental image of Strife using a bow to shoot down his enemies makes you snigger.

By the time he finishes explaining all this and starts another story (this one involving disciplining angels for not bending to the Council), you're all but back to normal, if not a bit sleepy. You cautiously lay your head on his shoulder, smiling when he continues as if you hadn't moved at all.

"You should've seen War back then, little one. Age has calmed him." He scoffs.

"Time has only bored you, brother." Fury suddenly says, sounding amused. "Perhaps you should take notes."

You flinch in surprise, having completely forgotten about her. No thanks to Strife, who had turned to strategically away from her when you began to freak the hell out.

Strife snorts, chuckling. "Because our incarcerated little brother is _such_ a great role model. I think I've got my hands full with these human games anyway. And the human in general."

"Rude." You shove his chest, although it does all of nothing to the Horseman.

"Listen to them, Strife." Fury snickers.

You yawn widely while Strife fires off some snarky reply, your eyes watering. "Dude, I'm tired as all get out, don't you dare start yelling."

"Figures. How often do you need to sleep exactly? Every two hours?" Strife shakes his head, once again repositioning you, until he can comfortably stand up.

"Yes. I'm actually a cat, Strife. I require seventeen to twenty hours of sleep a day or _I'll die_." You reply sarcastically, dramatically going limp in his arms.

Fury is laughing throughout this interaction, watching you with what could almost be admiration. "You are welcome to find me after you rest. I would love to understand why my brother has taken such a shining to you."

"He's desperate." You shrug, smiling up at Strife when he glares. "I'm kidding."

"I could drop you." He threatens.

"But you won't." You reply confidently, knowing it to be true. He'll scare the hell out of you for sure, but he won't purposely harm you, you're certain.

He makes a noncommittal noise, kicking the living room door open. The bang makes you flinch, much to his amusement. You shoot him a glare, but otherwise don't comment.

It's a very short walk to your bedroom, where Strife unceremoniously plops you onto your bed. You watch him with interest as he grabs your desk chair and settles down, going as far as to pull out the ds you didn't realize he had stolen from you. _Sneaky._

"You're staying." It sounds more like a statement than a question, but he gets the point.

"None of us need you worrying yourself dead before you even start your 'quest'." His tone implies that's the only reason, but you know for a fact that's just an excuse.

"You're really worried about me, aren't you?" You ask, smiling.

"Keep telling yourself that." He replies dryly, leaning back leisurely and pointedly mashing buttons on the ds.

"You can just admit you care about me, you know." You tell him, getting comfy. "I care about you too."

Strife doesn't verbally respond, but a quick glance confirms he's not nearly as tense anymore. It'd be much easier to read him if he left that mask off though. You internally sigh, burying your face in the pillow. Maybe you'll ask later.

* * *

You find Fury in her 'bedroom', which looks startlingly similar to Strife's. It's mostly bare, a rarely slept in bed in one corner and a table and chair set in the other. Fury also has a small vanity, presumably to brush out her mass of gorgeous purple hair.

She's perched on one of the chairs, absently sharpening her claws. You're surprised to note her casual clothing, but shrug it off. It makes sense. You're not sure why Strife insists on wearing full armor in his own house.

Her door is open, but you nonetheless knock on the doorframe. "May I come in?"

"You may." She glances up with a smile, motioning to the seat across from her. "Did you have a pleasant rest? Strife mentioned your nightmares, and I can understand why considering your foresight."

_So they really were talking about me_. "I sleep pretty well when he's nearby though." You hum, sitting crisscross. "He... We're friends. Honestly I'm not sure how that happened, but yeah."

Fury returns to her claws, the quiet, repetitive filing noise calming your nerves. "I don't doubt your friendship. I'm pleased Strife was ordered to find you in fact."

You find yourself irrationally irritated by her formal speech, but shove that thought away as she continues.

"But... I'll admit I am less than optimistic of your ability to assist War clear his name. Strife says you have next to no combat training?" She asks, appraising you.

You frown. "Yeah. I mean, I know how to use a gun, not like one of Strife's either, just a little human gun, but that's about it. I took some basic self defense courses a few years ago..."

Her lips tilt up into a serene smile. "Fortunately for you then, I have very little on my to-do list. We can start immediately, unless you wish to discuss it with Strife."

"Start... What?" You repeat slowly, hoping she doesn't mean what you assume. There's _no way_ one of the Horseman is offering to train you not a day after your first meeting.

"Your training." Her bright yellow eyes fix you in place. "If I'm to entrust you with my youngest brother's well being, I will do everything in my power to strengthen you."

You can't manage much more than, "Oh."

She raises an eyebrow, and you absently wonder if that's where Strife got it.

"I would... Love to train with you, but I'm not sure if I can... Keep up, I guess. I'm just a human." You admit, twisting your hands anxiously.

Her eyes narrow. "Just a human? Do not sell yourself short, child. Your race is the most resilient and clever breed I have ever seen, and _you_ are the last of them." Her voice is sharp, contrasting harshly with her words. "You will do fine."

You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding uncertainly. "Let's do this thing."

* * *

Fury watches curiously as you bustle around the large kitchen area, humming along to hundred year old music. 

"Are you certain this is what you want to be doing in your off time?" She asks. Only a few days into training and you've already begun to show improvement. You're still no match for even the weakest of demons, but you've got nearly six months to work with. Given your apparent work ethic, Fury believes she will be able drag you out of the 'hindrance' category and into the role of an advisor War will listen to.

"I promised Strife I'd make pizza, and the dough has to rise. So if I make it right now, by the time we finish today's lessons it'll be nice and airy." You reply breezily, continuing the knead said dough. "I still don't understand how the Watcher's got ahold of cheese, but honestly I don't care."

"They have a way of getting their claws on things." She shrugs.

You hum, moving to place the ball of dough in a bowl and set a dishcloth over it. "There. You wanna get back to training?"

"While I appreciate your excitement, you do have to rest." She leans forward, pressing her hand against your cheek and forehead. "You're still warm."

"Yes, that happens when you're alive." You respond, wiping down the counter. "I told you, I don't feel... Normal. I think the Council did more than just stabilize me."

You've been here for almost two weeks now, and your change in appetite is becoming apparent. You're just... Not hungry very much lately. A dinner and small breakfast is enough to keep you energized for all day, much to your confusion. You've also started sleeping less, but that could be a combination of the Council's meddling and your nightmares. You don't feel as tired as you think you should though.

"Even nephilim need to rest." She responds calmly. "And Strife would have my head if I worked you too hard."

You snicker, hopping up on tabletop. "He's known me for like two weeks, and you for millennia. I doubt he'd actually hurt you."

"You don't know him as I do, child. He... Will most certainly hold a grudge for a perceived offense, and it does not hurt that you have him wrapped around your finger." She smiles lightly. "I am happy for you both nonetheless."

"You make it sound like we're dating." You deadpan, frowning.

"You humans have such a strange fixation on every relationship being romantic." She sighs, tapping her nails against the counter.

You pause, finding it hard to disagree. "A fair point."

"And if I remember correctly, you mentioned finding War to be the most attractive of the four." She smirks teasingly.

" _Wait a minute_ , were you eavesdropping, Fury!?" You press your hand to your heart as if you're offended. You distinctly remember telling that to Strife a few days ago. He seems to enjoy trying to fluster you with talk of War, so you tried to turn it around on him. It didn't work.

"It is not my fault your voice gets louder when you're excited. And I would hardly call it 'eavesdropping', considering this is the Horseman's realm." She laughs.

" _Ohhh, sure_." You snort. "That _totally_ excuses you."

"Are you sassing me, human?" She growls, her smile betraying her amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you assure her, "Of _course_ not. I would never. You're a scary bunch, you Horsemen."

She hums, giving you a disbelieving look. "You would not sass a Horseman, but you plan on courting one?"

"Yes? As long as I've got his big sister's permission?" You confirm, stretching out your tried arms.

"...We will see." She answers, getting to her feet.

"Will sharing the pizza persuade you or do I have to work harder than that?" You joke.

"Maybe just a bit."

You giggle, smiling warmly at the Horseman. "More training?" You ask.

She nods, motioning for you to go ahead. "Such a quick learner."

The next hour or so passes in an exhausting blur, but thankfully it's mostly just stamina training today. Just a bunch of running and repetitive exercises. Fury keeps up with you without any apparent trouble, murmuring encouragements and correcting your posture a few times.

You're quite tired (and sweaty) by the time she calls it a day, collapsing onto the bench. You take a large gulp of your water, remembering too late you were supposed to add more ice. It's lukewarm now, but _hey_. You roll your eyes.

"Tired?" Fury hums, gracefully settling down next to you.

"Well yeah." You laugh. "It'll be worth it though."

She raises an eyebrow.

"I wanna make it to the end of this whole mess and War's gotta take out the Ch-" You stop mid sentence, gasping in pain. Your chain begins to burn with a vengeance at the mention of War, obviously displeased with your rule breaking.

_Hey, dumbass, you're not supposed to talk about that_ , the meaner part of you hisses. _You didn't mean to break the rules! I were just trying to make conversation_ , you argue.

Wrapping your arms around your middle, you shake your head. "Fuck. Sorry, I didn't mean- I forgot I'm not allowed to talk about that." You're really not sure if you're talking to the chain or Fury at this point, but damn does it hurt.

Fury grabs your shoulders, sounding honestly distressed as she demands, "What is happening?" When you don't immediately answer she jumps to her feet, " _Strife?_ What have they done?"

"It's nothing," You assure her through gritted teeth. It seems to be cooling now at least. The thing about burns is that they hurt more later. You're fully aware of this, and so's the Council apparently. It's actually pretty clever of them. Bruises and cuts can easily be forgotten after the fact, while burns linger.

_Smug fuckers_ , you hiss silently.

Strife appears before Fury can yell at you about lying, seeming to understand near instantly. "They talked?" He sighs, sounding downright irritated.

"Yes." You answer, opening your eyes. "I fucked up."

"How bad?" He crouches down next to the both you you, brushing away Fury's hands. Grabbing the edges of your shirt, he pauses, "May I?"

You give him a blank stare, raising your eyebrows. "Really?"

"I do have _some_ manners," He protests.

You smile, yanking your shirt up yourself. Sure enough, there's a long, angry burn just above your waistline. It curls around your whole body, the chain links easily distinguishable. "Gross." You wince.

Strife prods at the injury, tracing the older, less serious mark and shaking his head. "This one's probably going to scare, kid."

"Great." You sigh.

"Come on. I'd offer to carry you but I don't think I can without touching your waist." He stands back up, offering you his hand.

"Thanks." You take it without hesitation. "Although I might need help grating the cheese for our pizza now." You prompt.

Fury snorts, moving to your other side. "Ah, yes, abdominal injures make shredding cheese much harder."

"My arms are tired too, thank you very much, Fury." You quip.

"Have you two found a weapon yet?" Strife asks curiously. "Your gun won't do you much good against demons."

"Would it help against angels?" You hum, extremely pleased when your chain lets that go without frying you. Maybe you'll just have to be trickier with your spoilers. _And much more careful_ , you allow.

"At least let the metal cool." Fury says. 

Strife is surprisingly thoughtful in his response, pausing before responding, "They have weaker hides than demons, but they also wear armor. You'd have to be careful with your aim, and make sure it's a fatal shot. Anything else and it'd just piss it off."

"Nonetheless, we will need a proper close range weapon for you. War is not the type to pick off enemies one by one." Fury smiles fondly.

"From what I've heard he's more of a Leeroy Jenkins kinda guy." You tease, the reference flying over their head's. Fury laughs anyway, shaking her head at your pleased expression. "But seriously, I don't think I'll be able to use claws or a whip."

"Oh, no. It would take years to effectively use my weapons, and your movements are still too slow. I was thinking a heavier, wide swinging weapon to keep the enemies at bay until War can assist you." She admits, glancing at Strife. "Although I wouldn't be the best tutor for such a weapon."

"No." His voice is disbelieving. "You don't really think he'd help."

"If it is to help War, I believe he would." Her lips tilt up.

The Horseman switches into that ancient language again, seeming to vehemently protest to whatever Fury is suggesting. You squeeze his hand uncertainly, trying to get his attention.

"What?" He asks sharply, and although you know it's not directed at you, it makes you flinch.

"Who is 'he'?" You bite your lip.

He narrows his eyes, his voice like a blade, " _Death_."


	4. Months In Between

"So... Where is he supposed to be exactly?" You hum curiously, glancing around the rather barren landscape.

Strife makes a noise of annoyance from behind you, "Hell if I know. Somewhere near here?"

"The merchant claimed so." Fury responds lightly, a ways away from you, Strife, and Grief. Her own mount is a very pretty thing, if not intimidating. Apparently it's name is Rampage, which you figure fits the theme nicely. Your own name seems extremely out of place when you think of yourself with the Horseman and their steeds.

"Hey, Strife?" You ask, tilting your head back.

"What?" He responds wearily.

You pause, having expected him to snap at you. He seems to be in an awfully bad mood after Fury got the Council to agree to allowing you to leave to find Death. To add insult to injury, she told him his presence isn't necessary, to which he vehemently disagreed. You're pretty sure the learned the phrase "fuck that noise" from yours truly.

"I don't know. I'm bored." You finally say, sighing.

"Agreed." He hmphs, yanking you roughly to his chest. "Take a nap or something then. Grief and I can handle it."

"I thought you said I sleep too much?" You laugh.

"You've gotta stock up on rest if you're going to train with Death." He still sounds irritated by that, much to his sister's amusement. You see her lips quirk before she turns her face away and spurs her own horse to move on ahead.

"Why are you so salty when Death is concerned?" You frown. "I mean, I know he's sassy as fuck, but I always thought it was sorta cute."

"You think Death is  _cute?_ " Strife repeats incredulously. Grief nickers in agreement.

You shrug, smirking mischievously. "I'm weak for Horseman."

" _Apparently_." He huffs.

"In my defense though, I don't mean like fluffy bunny cute, I mean like... "Wow this guy's sort of an asshole but this is hilarious" cute. There's a difference." You elaborate, grabbing his hand and threading your fingers through his. You also curse his armor for poking you.

Shaking with laughter, he says, "He is 'sort of an asshole', that I will admit."

"You still didn't answer the question." You remind him.

He probably rolls his eyes at that, if you're guessing correctly. "It's not anything in particular. I... Don't really get along with my siblings."

"You get along with me." You pointedly squeeze his hand.

"You're... Different. It's easy to get along with you." He allows.

"Why do you say that?" It's your turn to be disbelieving. "I'm awkward as all get out and I can't even fight yet. Honestly I don't see the appeal."

He snorts. "You're interesting, you seem to truly care for the four of us, which is practically uncharted territory, and the Council weren't wrong when claimed humans are clever things. Without you, Fury and I would have no idea what's in store."

Your chain heats up a bit as if its annoyed you've managed to give them sprinkles of information without directly breaking the rules, but you're more concerned with how sincere Strife is.

You find yourself smiling brightly, bringing your hands up to your cheek. "I think you just gave me a cavity with all that sweetness."

"How about I knock it out then?" Strife threatens, curling his hand into a fist.

"Oh, shut up." You snap, patting Grief. "How have you put up with this for so long?"

"Are you trying to turn my own horse on me?" Strife sounds torn between amused and annoyed.

You shrug. "Actually I'm trying to make conversation with your horse. I've only been here like what? Three weeks now? Just how do you do it, Grief?" The horse makes a noise that could almost be considered a laugh. _Huh_.

"I take it all back, humans are fucking rude and nothing else." Strife mock corrects himself. His tone softens the harsh wording.

"Such langu-"

A bright purple streak on the horizon cuts you off, shooting up like electricity. Fury's whip, you recognize after a second of panicky confusion.

"Fury must've found him." Strife explains, spurring Grief on.

You buzz with renewed excitement, clutching Strife's hand like a lifeline as you get your first look at Death. It takes only a few minutes of Grief making an honest effort to reach Fury and a not-so-mysterious character. They barely glance up when the three of you draw close, although Death's unnervingly bright eyes linger on you for a while.

You try to be cool, and fail miserably by smiling brilliantly.

"Remember to breathe." Strife teases you, pulling his hand away to help you dismount. You remain glued to his side even when Grief is banished. Thankfully he doesn't seem to mind.

"This is the last living human then?" Death narrows his eyes at you. "What are you called?"

You manage that at least your name without stuttering. "I know who you are."

"So I would assume." He scoffs, looking to Strife. "I'm surprised you're so... Close to them, brother. I didn't think you knew how to make friends."

You can feel Strife stiffen, but you beat him to the punch with a quick, "Dude, your best friend is a crow."

Your eyes go wide as soon as realize you just backsassed  _Death_ , bringing both your hands up to cover your traitorous mouth.  _Shit._

"Damn." Strife laughs, hardly trying to smother the sound. Fury is much better at keeping her amusement quiet, going as far as to shoot you a disapproving glare. You honestly do not blame her.

Death's gaze slowly returns to you, and there's a short pause in which your life flashes before your eyes before he responds, "Fair enough." He gives you a once over, apparently deciding you're now worth the effort to do so. "However I was under the impression you're here to ask for my assistance."

You have to pick your words carefully to make it seem like that last comment was purposeful, "Knowing you, begging isn't gonna get me anywhere."

"And what  _do_  you know of me?" His eyes narrow.

"I know you haven't talked to Crowfather lately." You allow your eyes to flicker to his chest, where you distinctly remember the amulet shards being embedded. He's still got pretty great abs though, you have to admit. "He doesn't appreciate the spooky necklace you gave him."

"I can't imagine why not." Death hmphs, his famed sarcasm making you smile.

"I hear ya, but that probably won't stop 'im from trying to kill you if you do end up payin him a visit." You've figured out that your chain doesn't mind nonspecific predictions, so this is completely within your bounds. Words like  _probably_  and  _maybe_  have become your best friends lately.

"This is what I was trying to explain." Fury says, breaking the tense little bubble you and Death had formed. "The Council has chained them to secrecy, but the human  _refuses_ -"

"To shut the fuck up about the future." Strife interrupts, patting your head. The weight of it makes your head bob, despite your best efforts to appear unaffected. Stupid Horsemen and their Horsemen strength. 

You frown at him, "Why are you swearing so much today?"

"I'll give you three guesses." He responds. Under normal circumstances you would snuggle up to him right about now, but you're not sure he would appreciate with big brother Death around.

He does seem pretty irritated though... You give him a weak glare and, deciding you don't actually care about Death's opinion on your relationship, you wrap your arms around his waist. "Well... there's three other Horseman." You say. 

"Are you trying to say you don't even consider yourself an option?" Strife snorts. He doesn't return your embrace, but doesn't seem to mind either. You know it's just because Fury and Death are present.

"I can see the future, remember?" You tease.

This actually makes him laugh. "You know War's potential future, and next to nothing else, kid."

"Pshhh, like that matters. And I do know some of Death's future too, thank you very much." You tilt your head to look at said Horseman, smiling apologetically. "Council's got me on a leash though, so I can't really help you in that regard."

"In what regards can you help me, human?" Death sounds dubious at best.

You roll your eyes in reply. "There's a reason the Council wants me to be War's adviser, nephilim. I want to help you, and make things easier for War, at least. As of right now though, we both know he won't take me seriously."

His eyes narrow a fraction. "Why do you care? What has the Council promised you in return?"

"Well they did gave this awesome belt." You step away from Strife to yank up your shirt, revealing said belt and the still relatively fresh burns. "And stabilized me or something. Apparently dimension hoping isn't good for humans? Hell if I know what would have happened alternatively."

"You would've died," Fury chirps helpfully.

"Thanks." You reply dryly, poking at the leathery skin. It's not exactly what you would call a scab and you're not sure what the proper word is. "Gross." You mutter, covering it back up.

"It's healing nicely at least." Fury says, giving you a reassuring smile.

You grin lightly in return before turning back to Death. "That's also why I'm not allowed to spill my guts. Apparently any of you knowing War's future would be bad news, as if I wouldn't have a plan. Although I guess it's a good way to keep me semi-loyal I mean, I could totally fuck up their plans." You clasp your hands excitedly. "That'd be fun."

If only War would believe you right off the bat telling him the Council wants to use him as a scapegoat. Not that him knowing would do much aside from kindle his ire, what with him being stripped of power and all. Honestly the game's story-line is pretty good in that regard, and you don't actually have much to change. The Council, and the Horseman, don't need to know that presently though.

"You're not fond of the Council?" Death prompts, sounding mildly interested.

"Oh, you'll see. They deserve it for what they've done." You grind your teeth, only stopping when your chains begin to heat up again. "Oh come on! I didn't break any rules." You hiss.

"Treason is generally regarded as rule breaking." Strife laughs.

You cast him a glare. "It's not treason if I haven't sworn loyalty. You know damn well who I'm after."

"Now who's swearing?" He taunts, more than likely smirking behind that mask of his.

You don't dignify that with a response and instead glance back at Death. "I don't blame you for avoiding your realm, dude, but I sorta need your help."

" _We_ need your help." Fury adds. Your senses are much to slow to catch the movements, but suddenly she's got one arm wrapped around your waist and her chin resting on top of your head. She thankfully keeps her grip just above your burns.

Death glances between the two of you, seeming to weigh his options. "I suppose I have nothing better to do." He finally concedes, eyes on you. "Tell me more about the Crowfather?" It almost sounds like a question, although you think it's an order.

"Sure!" You cheer, smiling brightly. "From what I've gathered he's probably going to be a reappearing NPC in your game despite being slaughtered and all. You're fucking brutal by the way. A plus."

"My game?" He mimics, clearly questioning your sanity. You're just happy he didn't comment on the obviously fannish reaction. _Ugh. You're the last human, come on. Make a good impression._

"Yes. It's... Complicated. I can't go into details because it would break my rules though. It involves War, is what I'm saying. I guess the better term would be 'timeline'? Ugf.. It's hard to explain without getting toasted. That's also why I'm talking like this. The chain doesn't seem to understand slang. The Watchers do though, which is really weird. Like...? Were they literally watching humans? Because no other creature that I've ever seen uses 'hella'." You babble on as Fury and Strife begin to plan out your schedule now that Death is on board.

Death, thankfully, is giving you his full attention. Or, you think so at least... It's hard to tell with him. "I'm not up to date on the Watcher's duties." He says dryly.

"You're not up to date with much of anything as far as I know." You deadpan.

"As far as you know." He agrees.

You wonder if mentioning the past breaks your rules, debating a few moments before admitting, "I know about the Abomination Vault."

This catches his attention. He eyes you carefully, "What of it?"

"Nothing. I just... That's another part of the timeline I have an intimate knowledge of. It starts with you sassing a none too observant demon, before War gets involved. Speaking of which, where's Dust?" You pout.

He makes a noise that you could almost call a laugh. "Scavenging, I would assume. He's not useful for much else."

"You're so mean." You hum happily. Who would've thought you'd get to see Death trash talking his bird in person? Or, Death in general really. You suppose the timeline does make sense though, given Darksiders 2 supposedly begins just a bit before the original Darksiders.

Strife nudges you, hissing, "Weak."

"Hey, Strife, no one cares, babe." You respond with a sugary sweet grin.

If looks could kill...

* * *

 

Honestly... You didn't think time could move so fast, you muse, taking a sip of your pink lemonade. You've already done your training for today with Fury, and are now awaiting Death's commands.

He doesn't seem inclined to deal with you right now though, so you settle for going over your plan for the billionth time and silently taking notes.

It's been a short few months, especially once Death joined your little party. He's even worse than Fury when it comes to training, pushing you much harder than she does. You usually end up collapsing in your blissfully cool bed (or Strife's, but that's only on Bad Days) afterwards.

You're getting better though, and that's all that really matters. Well, and you've finally got yourself an actual weapon of your own. A halberd, in fact. Unfortunately it can't split itself in half like Harvester (which Death has only let you use once, it was  _amazing_ ), but it sparkles occasionally. Death says that's good. It's 'syncing with your energy'.

You watch Death train with his ghouls with unabashed amazement, although you can hardly keep up with his quick, precise movements. It's just so...  _Pretty_. He's so graceful, effortlessly switching between Harvesters' large sweeping scythe attacks and it's double form with its more up close moves.

You know he's aware of his audience, but he makes no move to acknowledge you quite yet, so you continue to watch him. You also wonder who designed this training room. You're still not used to this place.

Just like the rest of this strange compound, it's set up awkwardly. The main area is a few feet deeper than the edges, making it more of a fighting pit than anything else. You rest on the upper area, once again questioning who thought solid rock flooring was a good idea. The walls are bare and instead of windows there are large mirrors.

You glance back at Death, who continues to slay his ghouls with little effort. _Nice._

Feeling a weight on your shoulder, you yip in surprise. Dust squawks in reply, yanking at a strand of your hair. You give him a weak glare, asking blandly, "Is that how you greet everyone?"

The crow makes a harsh noise, shaking his wings out.

"My bird speak is a little rusty, you know." You joke. You very slowly move to pet him, careful of his wicked-looking beak. He makes another noise, although this one is more of a chirp.

"Aww," Cooing, you continue to pet the large bird. "I'll admit you're cute. Although your nails-"

He squawks as if he's offended by the word 'nails.'

"... _fearsome talons_  are digging into my shoulder." You correct, trying to seem sincere.

Dust makes the bird equivalent of a snort, apparently well versed in sarcasm. You narrow your eyes when he digs his claws farther into your shoulder. "Wow, that hurts so bad, Dust, I might just die."

Dust puffs up his feathers and pointedly turns his face away from you.

"You've offended my bird." Death's voice is much closer than you expected.

You lurch back a bit, one hand wrapping around the pole of your weapon instinctively. To say you're a little strung out is a colossal understatement. "Sorry?" You offer.

Death pauses, giving you a once over. "Nervous?" He finally asks, sounding honestly interested. You wouldn't go as far as to say  _concerned_ , but it is Death. You'll take what you can get.

"Extremely. I mean, I can sort of fight now, so that'll be a plus, but there's still no guarantee War will take my adviser status seriously and to be honest, I'm just scared in general like. Humans are known for being weak and what we've got to accomplish isn't easy in any sense of the word." You babble anxiously, rehashing what you've gone over with Strife for the hundredth time. You've only mentioned your fears to Fury once, mostly because her way of comforting you is... Disorienting. Good for your ego, yeah, but it doesn't address the main issue.

"And yet you still insist on trying." Death prompts.

"I've got nothing to lose." You shrug, running your finger tips over Dust's wing.

"Strife would disagree." The Horseman counters.

Blinking, you tilt your face at him. "I... Strife will be fine. And I thought you disliked him?"  _Are you worried about him?_

"Threats are a form of affection among nephilim." He replies. You're not sure if he's being sarcastic or not, honestly.  _Probably_ , you decide as he continues, "I don't understand why you're so anxious to throw your life away, considering you are the third kingdom."

You elect to ignore the obvious dig on your 'title', tracing the shallow designs in the pole of your weapon. "I know you don't understand. I know you don't believe I actually care for War too, but that doesn't stop me from doing so."

You're completely aware he's heard you and the other's bicker about his youngest brother, and with Strife's mouth it'd be impossible for him to have missed your crush. You've yet to have a conversation about it though, aside from now.

His eyes noticeably narrow. "Ah, yes, because you know War better than anyone."

You scowl in return, fighting back your instinct yell. "That's what I'm talking about. Your cynical point of view isn't going to change how I feel about him. And it's not... Like I said, even if we do end up befriending one another, I have the lifespan of a fruit fly compared to you guys. He'll-  _they'll_  be fine."

Death glares at you, "You're over confident in your ability to change the timeline but have no grasp on your self worth."

"Was..." You start, watching him intently. "Was that a compliment? What are you..."

He sighs, the noise grating on your nerves. "Humans are truly the cleverest of races."

"Ohhhh, isn't this  _interesting_?" A distinctly different voice crows, a Watcher coming to rest on Death's shoulder. The Horseman throws it off immediately, but its undeterred. "Socializing with our little human, are we, Kinslayer? I thought you were training."

You absolutely despise the way it says 'our human', as if they own you.

Apparently you're not very good at keeping your feelings off your face either. The Watcher tilts its head at you, mocking, "Don't look so sour. The council has asked me to compile a list of things you will need."

On the up side, you're pretty sure this isn't War's Watcher. It doesn't seem to have the same level of snark.

"I've already given you all a list." You huff, returning to petting Dust.

"You've had longer to think it over now. The Council wants you to have every advantage for your... quest. Some things may take longer to acquire than others. We'll probably have to scour the remains of Earth." It responds, fluttering its larger wings excitedly.

"Yea!" You cheer sarcastically. "You got a piece of paper or something? I have to think this through."

"Come along." The Watcher spins around, heading towards the exit.

"O...kay?" You wriggle your finger under Dust's feet, making him hop off. He settles back onto Death's shoulder. "I'll see you two later, I guess?" You suggest, hoping off your little perch.

You have the feeling it's going to be a  _Bad_ Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Know the prologue drags on as is but rereading this just makes me want to write a whole bunch more of the in between times like the human n strife getting to know one another/comforting each other more and both strife and fury learning abt humans things and aaaaaaa i love them


	5. Good Morning!!

The first words you hear in the morning are: "Hey. _Human_. I thought they gave you your own room?"

 _Ugh._  You try to ignore them, prompting the Watcher to pluck your blanket off, giggling maniacally all the while. "Come on. Wakey-wakey." They say.

You make a groaning noise instead of replying and bury yourself further into Strife's pointy embrace in an attempt to keep the warmth. His goddamn armor is definitely a problem, but you have to weigh the pros with the cons.

"Fuck off." Strife snaps.

"Hmmm, I suppose I can just take the human with me then?" They snicker.

You twist around, squinting blearily at the dark creature. "What are you talking about?"

"War's off the hook. The Council is making its decision today." They cheer happily, clasping their hands together. "You have a few hours to prepare yourself, advisor, you'd best not spend them snuggling our Horseman here."

"What if I want to?" You huff.

"Then we will assume you're forfeiting your role and have to... Terminate you." They tilt their head curiously, apparently confused. 

You roll your eyes. "Fine, whatever, you rude... whatever you are."

 _Wait_.

You scramble on all fours to the other side of the bed, demanding, "Did you just say I'm leaving today!? I'm gonna meet War!?" Your voice gets higher as the sentence goes on, becoming a near screech.

"Isn't it grand?" The Watcher says airily.

You spin back around and grab Strife's shoulders. "I'm gonna meet War."

He gives you a wain smile, clearly still annoyed by being awaken, "So I heard."

"Hey, Strife?" You say, unable to contain your excited grin.

He pauses, already knowing you'll wait until he replies, "What?"

" _I'm totally gonna mack on your brother._ " You declare.

This grants you a full fledged smile, Strife shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Are you now? As his older brother, don't you need my approval to do 'mack on' him? I don't remember you making a request."

"Hmph." You grunt, smiling nonetheless. "As if I haven't made it painfully obvious tha-"

The Watcher leans against your back, fingers caressing your shoulders affectionately although you're frozen with momentary terror. "You're interesting romantically in War? Still?" They giggle. "I thought you would've switched targets by now."

Strife is still quicker than you can even comprehend, although you've now had months of practice. He yanks you against his chest and away from the Watcher in an instant, Mercy trained on it. "Get back."

"Precisely what I'm talking about. You're in his bed, and he's defending you so _fiercely_." They trill, floating back to the doorway. "I will wait near the portal, great advisor. Make sure to say your... goodbyes."

You pretend you don't notice the purr in goodbyes. "Yeah, sure." Waving it off, you relax back into Strife and try to fight back your anxiety. _It's okay, they didn't mean any harm. We're okay_. "Why are they so touchy feely?"

"They view us as possessions of the Council rather than beings." Strife snorts. "As if they're above us."

"Well, I mean, they can fly." You offer, trying to lighten the mood.

"You say as if I can't." Strife's lip twitches upward.

You give him an incredulous stare, "What."

"You have yet to see my true form." He reminds you.

"Ohhhh, man, I cannot wait." You nudge his ribs, hiding your face. "That'll be fun."

Strife takes a deep breath, tightening his grip on you. Like he's just as hesitant as you are. "Come on. We've got to pack your bags, unpry you from me, and make sure you're prepared to deal with my littlest brother."

"My backpack is already packed, and you only have one little brother." You say, getting to your feet.

"I don't see your point." He responds lightly.

He wolf whistles when you stretch, earning him a sound smack. "Ass." You snap.

"I'm kidding." He chortles. "You go take a shower and get dressed. I can manage breakfast."

You flash him a smile before disappearing down the hallway, silently thanking him. You do just as he requests too, and yank on your pre-selected outfit for your journey ahead. You're practically buzzing with nervous energy all the while, although its rather bittersweet. You're aware you won't have Strife to hold your hand, and that thought in and of itself is terrifying.

You practically sprint to the kitchen, finding Strife and Fury bickering over what kind of spread to put on your toast.

Fury cheers your name as soon as you arrive, smiling. "It's show time, I hear."

"I guess." You say, hopping onto a bar stool. Strife uses her lapse in attention to slather on peanut butter (she doesn't like how it smells) and slide the toast over to you.

"Are you ready?" Fury hums as you take a few bites, looking you over for what feels like the millionth time. You know she just wants to make sure you're ready, but it's nonetheless disconcerting.

You also know what she's seeing. You've got more muscle mass than you've probably ever had, and your skin is marred with lacy, superficial scars from their harsh training. You know the determined glint in your eyes is more prominent than ever, as are the dark circles under them.

The biggest change in your appearance has to be the large burn scars though, which you and Strife decided have to be on display. It's intimidating, if not a bit dangerous to have your midriff un-armored.

You fancy yourself rather badass at this point, but you're completely aware you're still tiny and delicate compared to any of the Horseman. _But I'm sure as hell gonna protect War anyway._

"Eat." Strife orders, noticing your expression.

You return to the present with a blink. "Sorry." You take a big bite just to appease him. Chewing quickly, you ask, "You think I'm ready?"

Fury pats the top of your head, "Of course. You're the third kingdom, after all."

God, they really are siblings. You frown, finishing the rest of your breakfast in silence. Strife and Fury fill in the blank with idle chatter, discussing whether or not you're fully packed and if we should find Death before your departure.

This proves unnecessary when the eldest Horseman strides in of his own accord, seeming even grumpier than usual. "Why is there a Watcher harassing my bird?" He demands. On his shoulder, Dust croaks in agreement.

"Game time." Strife answers immediately, surprisingly civil.

Death glares at him in reply, although he does allow you offer your hand to Dust. The bird hops off Death's shoulder and onto your wrist, happy to receive pets.

"Good morning, little one," You giggle, making Strife groan.

"Stop babying the crow. It's older than you."

"Yes, but he's tiny and feathered, which makes him a baby. Right, Dust?" Your voice drops into a coo. Dust squawks agreeably, tilting his beak up proudly. "And its not like big brother Death is gonna baby him."

"You are the only one to ever refer to Death as such." Fury remarks, sounding amused. A quick glance confirms she's smiling.

You smile in return. "It's true. All four of you are big compared to me though, which is just _ridiculous_. Is there even any reason for you to be so big when you're in this form? Like, I understand the whole being giant when you're in chaos form or whatever it's called, but right now?" You huff.

"Most preferred calling it our chaos form." Fury confirms, leaning forward. This is her explaining pose, you know. "And truly, there is no reason in particular for us to be 'so big' in this form. It's a matter of aesthetics, although certain aspects are unchangeable regardless of form. Eye and energy color, for example. Certain markings will carry over also."

"War is red, right?" You hum, thoroughly entranced.

"Indeed. He is also the only one with blue eyes." She motions towards her brothers. "Although there are only four of us now, I suppose that's less than impressive."

You still, pressing your lips into a thin line. It's now or never. "About that..."

"Hm?" Fury raises an eyebrow.

"Lets say... Theoretically, that's not completely true." You begin, biting down on your bottom lip. "Like, I can confirm y'all killed everyone else, but there is a possibility that maybe a pretty strong nephilim still holds a major grudge and therefore lives on in a convoluted sort of way."

"What the hell are talking about?" Strife asks, his face scrunched up in confusion. Death simply watches you with mild interest, while Fury seems to already be trying to put your puzzle pieces together. She knows the drill.

You make a conflicted noise, knowing you'll get in trouble if you say it outright. "What's another word for corruption?" You finally ask, your tone making it clear its rhetorical.

Strife sighs, patting the top of your head. "More cryptic hints?"

"Did you expect any less? That's their selling point." You can always count on Death for sassy, slightly insulting remarks.

"It's my specialty really." You hum, reaching up to capture Strife's hand. He makes a noise when you thread your fingers through his, but otherwise doesn't argue.

You keep his hand for the remainder of your breakfast, eating with one hand while they chat about your journey. At one point Fury rushes out to grab your backpack with a secretive grin. You decide not to worry about it. You've got much better things to worry about after all. _Like dying_.

You're forced to release Strife's hand to slide on said backpack, much to your displeasure.

"Put our training to good use." Fury solemnly hands over your halberd.

"Y-yeah." You say. The action of holding your weapon is comforting, but her words rattle your fragile confidence. You knew from the get-go you'd have to fight, but... _It's still scary_. And you'll only have War to rely on now.

"Ready, kid?" Strife asks with a grin.

"Not in the slightest." You answer earnestly, keeping your watery eyes on the halberd. "I..." You start, harshly biting down on your lip. "I'm gonna miss you guys."

The Horseman fall silent, something you would've marveled at yesterday ( _Death and Strife in the same room without fighting!?)_. Now it just feels suffocating.

Fury is the first one to break the silence, moving to tilt your face up and properly look at you. She's pouting, her eyebrows pulled together fretfully. "I forget how young you are."

"It's not gonna take that long." Strife adds, oddly uncertain.

"Yeah, but..." You can't quite put your emotions to words. This is what you've been looking forward to, meeting War and beginning this awesome adventure. But now... "I don't... What if I can't do this?" You demand, pretending that if you don't pay any mind to the tears they notice.

"Of course you can!" Fury instantly assures you.

"And if you can't, War will be happy to rip some demons apart." Strife reminds you with an awkward chuckle.

Even _Strife_ is uncomfortable, you realize. This doesn't help your crying situation at all.

"I nearly forgot bad the two of you are at comforting people. It's almost comical." Death snorts, shoving both his siblings out of the way. "Human," He says, waiting until you meet his fiery gaze to continue, "I wouldn't have agreed to assist you if I didn't believe in your ability. Weak human as you are, your determination can and will get your through this."

Death the motivational speaker is not something you expected. ...must be a part of the leader thing, you suppose.

"What about War? What if he doesn't trust me? As an adviser, or as... Me." You finally ask, voicing your biggest fear. If your presence does bring unwanted changes to the storyline, you'll need War's trust to return it to 'canon'.

Death shrugs, "You've won Dust over. War can't be too much of a challenge."

Did he just compare his youngest brother's affections to _a crow?_ You know he's joking (in that weird way he does), but _still!_ Your eyes go wide in shock, "Death! That wasn't nice at all!"

"You act surprised." Strife notes, not so subtly trying to get a rise out of Death.

"Here we to again." Fury huffs, flashing you a grin.

This, at least, you're familiar with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> strife n reader are Soft.....


	6. Not A Meet Cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> early game reader is So Cute lmao i love them. reworking on this works me so happy

You _almost_ forgot how ridiculously attractive War is.

 _Wow, thirsty much?_  the cynical side of you says. You've been fighting back and forth with yourself since you arrived in The Pit (as you've dubbed it), and make an effort to stop now that War is actually here.

You anxiously nibble your thumb nail while the Council chews him out, standing near where he'll receive ChaosEater.

You had said goodbye to the others a few hours ago, and have since been painstakingly going over hundreds of potential situations and pacing, but now that War is here, you're stock-still, leaning against your halberd as if that will help your shaky knees. Thankfully it's long enough to allow you to do this without hurting yourself.

You absently run your free hand over the delicate engravings on the surface. _I should probably thank Death again after this whole mess is over... And Fury. And Strife._ _I have a lot of thank you's to throw around._ You muse.

You only glance up when you hear War making pained noises, finding him arm deep in lava. You're almost positive it doesn't feel as nice as it did for you either, given the circumstances. Maybe the Council have a soft spot for humans. Or they just really dislike War and his supposed crime against the Balance. Either one sounds reasonable. Ish.

Shuddering, you wrap one arm around your chained waist when he yanks himself free. The new gauntlet drips with dark energy that you're more than familiar with, but is nonetheless unsettling. Your own chain seems to heat up in response, making you shift uncomfortably.

"The Watcher is bound to you. It will ensure your loyalty, while the human will act as your guide." The Council growls.

Shadow (you refuse to refer to call it the Watcher when you knows there's one than one) swims around War's shoulders, saying in a unconvincingly friendly tone, "Remember that, or I will really get under your skin."

War hits the ground hard, grunting with pain and making your insides twist with empathetic discomfort. War digs his fingers into the stone, leaving deep grooves in the rock. You distinctly remember this scene in the game, but damn if it isn't ten times as impressive in person.

"ENOUGH!" The Council orders, obviously much too soon to please Shadow. _What an asshole._ "Get up, and arm yourself, War."

Hearing his loud footsteps approaching, you tighten your grip on the halberd pole and straighten up. _Play it cool. Remember the bet with Strife_.

A bet that you will under no circumstances lose or mention to War. Which definitely has nothing to do with your love life. _Nothing_.

War noticeably pauses when he spots you, his bright white eyes narrowing and a scowl appearing. "This is the human?"

"Damn right." You grin excitedly.

"They have... knowledge and the cunning mind the third kingdom are known for." The Council answers rather flippantly, apparently less than concerned with what War thinks of this situation.

"Take ChaosEater. The angry blade thirsts for destruction." They continue, while War sizes you up.

If the barred teeth are anything to go by, he doesn't like what he sees.

 _Understandable_ , you think dismally. Unfortunately you can't say the same. He's just so... Goddamn attractive. Like honestly, it should be against the rules or something. You scowl in annoyance.

You absentmindedly return to running your fingers over the chain links on your 'leash', watching him pull out his battle worn weapon. Your own is shiny and unintimidating by comparison, although its eons older than you.

You silently follow as he makes his way to the soul... Thing.

Shadow seeps out of his gauntlet while they explain the souls = currency, moving in front of you and asking rather accusingly, "You prepared yourself accordingly, didn't you?"

"What kind of question is that? No, I brought my favorite romcom's and a cocktail dress, both of which obviously match the halberd." You snort.

It takes you a full second to realize you've been spending way too much time with Death and Strife if sarcasm is your go-to answer.

Shadow makes a hissing noise in response. It (they? she? he? You'll have to ask for pronoun clarification) reaches for you with one hand, wrapping its abnormally long fingers around the chain at your waist. "A shame I can't make you scream."

"War probably can." Your lips tilt up, making your meaning clear. "God dammit, I really have spent too much time with Strife." You add on, mostly to yourself. He would be cackling at this point, you know.

Shadow recoils like you've fricken swung at it, bringing one hand up to its chest. "I should expect as much from a human." You notice War now listening to your argument over the Watcher's shoulder, but decide to ignore him for the time being.

"Keep talkin like that and I'll think you fancy me, Shadow." You grin mock-flirtatiously. "We've got a long quest ahead of us though and I've already got a bet going, so you might wanna keep your infatuation on the down low."

"You-!" It starts, once again cut off by the Council.

"Quiet! Such insolence is not tolerable. The advisor will decide your fate, Watcher."

You honestly did not expect the Council to pick your side.

You almost smile, stopping yourself at the last milli-second. Can't be showing surprise. You scold yourself. You're almost positive you haven't seen Shadow before simply because it's not as fond as humans as its siblings. It does use slang though... You narrow your eyes. Maybe Shadow just doesn't like you? _Rude_.

You sort of want Death's input on this whole situation, but that is obviously not going to happen. Maybe you can get Vulgrim to ferry a message.

"Horseman." The Council suddenly booms, making you flinch back. "Find the demon Vulgrim."

You sigh. _This isn't gonna be as easy as I first assumed._

"Does our advisor know where he's located?" Shadow inquires, rather accusingly, in your opinion.

"Probably where he's always located. Got a metric fuck ton of wind chimes all around, a sigil ring." You shrug. There's really no need to give him anymore than that. You'd be much more willing to explain if War was the one asking.

Shadow makes a horrible hissing noise before seeping back into War's gauntlet, leaving you smiling hesitantly at said Horseman. You really can't help yourself. "Ready?"

He just scowls.

Yeah... This is going to be a long journey... You pout, moving to the portal that will quote unquote "take you to earth". You know that really means its going to send you crashing into the Earth, but you've reason to believe you'll survive. You did last time, when you went to get Death.

War goes on ahead of you, completely fearless as he steps through.

You only hesitate a tiny bit, before throwing yourself into the portal and out into open air. You're honestly not sure which is worse, the sensation of using said portal, or the fact you're hurtling toward Earth at a high speed.

The latter, you decide, pulling yourself into a ball of complete and utter terror. There has to be a better way to travel.

Your chains heat up, although this time you know it's not to harm you. You don't know if its actually the chain that protects you, or some ability awakened by the Council's tempering, but it protects. The stifling heat wraps around your body like a bubble and absorbs the shock of impact. It does not however, keep the debris from scratching every bit of exposed skin.

"Ugh." You groan, slowly picking yourself out of the crater. Shadow does its usual 'intimidating' thing while you do so, which you don't exactly agree with, but you're also not too keen on intervening with right now. You need to focus on not throwing up your breakfast.

Nonetheless, you have plenty of time to notice Shadow drifting close to antagonize you some more. "What's wrong, advisor? Can't handle a portal?" It mocks.

You shakily get onto your feet, using your halberd as a support. "No, actually, I can't. I sorta assumed given your six eyes you'd've noticed that I'm human." You snarl, glancing around for the ramp. "That way." You point, turning to War. "We go up."

He makes a noise you can't quite name, following your directions begrudgingly. Trailing after him, you begin to explain, "Vulgrim will want a few hundred more souls than what the Council gave you, so we're... You're going to have to farm and then he'll give us a way to progress."

"To where?" He scales the ramp with ease, much to your annoyance.

You have to carefully pick your way through the rubble in fear of injuring yourself. "There's a certain demon that wants to mutually beneficial deal."

Shadow seeps out of the Gauntlet, moving to wait for up War across the gap. "Over here." It hisses, clearly impatient.

You lurch forward before the Horseman can leap across, curling your fingers around the lip of his pauldron. "Can... I seriously I doubt I can make that jump." You admit, bowing your head with embarrassment. "I mean, I can probably climb but..."

If War reacts, you don't see it. You do however, squawk in surprise when he grabs you by the waist. He swings you up on his back without a moments hesitation, apparently figuring this is the easiest way to go about it.

Which is probably true, but doesn't stop you from blushing.

 _Yeah... This is gonna be a_ long _journey..._


	7. The First Of Many Injuries, Unfortunately

Fighting really isn't anything remarkable, aside from those brief moments of complete terror that seem to be appearing more often than ever. Thankfully Death had prepared you for battle terror, at least as much as he could without actually endangering you. The fact that the lowest level demons are  _very much_ just unlucky humans that were... transformed, doesn't help matters either. 

You did manage to get your first few kills though, making sure that War witnessed at least one instance of you bringing your halberd down on a demon's neck. He didn't really seem impressed, but you smugly noted that he stopped shoving you out of the way when another batch of demons appeared. You do however, stay the hell outta the way of the mini boss /exploding guy.

You mentally give yourself a gold star as War scoops you back onto his back to navigate the hotel. You're almost to the end now, and you're practically buzzing with excitement. It's only a few more tricky maneuvers until you reach the final hallway, where you find a gaping hole in the wall that will serve as your escape.

He sets you down to look out at the destroyed city, his expression giving nothing away aside from possible annoyance.

You can't help but frown at the sight before you. It was bad enough seeing the Wicked, but seeing this kind of devastation... It makes your chest ache. Almost like homesickness, you think.

Not that you don't _also_ experience homesickness. Being with the other Horseman numbed it a bit, but _still_. You have to wonder how the Horseman faired after losing their original home. Or if they cared at all. Death is adamant that time has softened them for the better.

 _Welcome home_ , you think sarcastically, shifting closer to War.

"How long have I been gone?" He asks gravely.

You expected Shadow to answer, but you flinch anyway. "In earth years? About a century. Long enough for all the mouth breathers to die off."

"Hey!" You protest lightly, casting it a glare. "I'm a mouth breather, grumpy gills."

"I don't have gills." Shadow snarls. "Besides, you're not naturally of this world."

War interrupts before you can think of a snappy comeback, sounding oddly despondent as he says, "The third kingdom is lost then."

"Of course not. I'm still here and Death- he's trying his best to help." You snap determinedly, tightening your grip on the halberd. You chain burns in warning, but not enough to faze you at this point.

"Death." War repeats.

Frowning fretfully, you answer, "Yes. Death. You do remember your brother, right?"

"What is Death trying to do?" He grumbles.

"He's-" You're cut off a nearby building crumbling and War yanking you back on his back. Making an embarrassingly loud squeaking noise, you hide your face as he leaps out. You white knuckle the lip of his armor and squeeze your eyes shut.

 _If I never have to free fall again it will be too soon_ , you think miserably.

The two of land with a crash, although War seems less then effected. The collapsing building just barely misses you and the noise makes your teeth rattle. War doesn't even wait for the dust to settle to start moving again, but he doesn't set you down either.

You're willing to bet he doesn't look _half_ as cool as he did in game with you on him like a koala and shivering with fear though.

Lifting your head, you use your sleeve to filter out the dust. "Check point." Your voice is muffled, but considering you're literally on him you think he got the message.

" _Subtle_." A familiar voice crows. "I almost didn't hear you coming."

"Vulgrim." War greets.

You carefully slip off his back while Vulgrim asks for souls, flinching only a tiny bit when you hit the ground. He's so _big_. Even compared to the other Horseman, War is big. He's taller and wider than Death by _quite a bit_ , you think, although Death _is_ the smallest. Strife is _probably_ almost War's height, but not nearly as bulky. Fury's affection for close combat, while rather at odds with her magic use, means she's built, although she's only a scant few inches taller than Death.

They're _all_ bigger than you though.

You feel your lips curl back in mild annoyance, remembering Strife's habit of rubbing that fact in your face. It pains you to admit you'll miss that. Less than a day into your quest and you're daydreaming about seeing the others again. _Just shameful_.

"I will be back." War raises his voice just a bit, bringing you back from the recesses of you mind.

You wave him off, agreeing, "Yeah sure. Make sure to break all the fire hydrants."

Vulgrim is watching you curiously when you turn to him, asking, "And what is plaguing you, human?"

"Have you seen Death yet?" You cut right to the heart of it as soon as War (and Shadow, more importantly) is out of earshot.

He pauses, doing that weird thing he does with his hands. You're not sure how to explain it properly. "Not on Earth."

 _Confirmed_ , you think without an ounce of irony. "I know." You scoff. "He's in the Maker's realm, is he not?"

"Indeed. How did you guess?" Vulgrim laughs, now appearing amused.

"Third Kingdom magic." You shrug. "Can you do me a favor?"

"I do not deal with favors." He says, his eyes narrowing.

You roll your eyes, "No shit, Sherlock. I meant... A trade. Both of us know neither Death nor War will complete your little side-quest collection without incentive. You relay messages between Death and me, and I will make sure they get every. Last. One."

You're positive Death will collect every last page without hesitation if you say it will help War, and roping War into collecting the artifacts won't be too hard when you're forced to collect the Blade pieces anyway. You'll just have to make sure not to mention they're not mandatory. That's not _too_ horrible a lie, right?

Okay, _maybe_ you're being sort of manipulative. But you really want to keep Death updated, and his opinion should be useful. If only you could get ahold of Strife. You're a weak human who needs a big brother figure, apparently.

Vulgrim makes a show of thinking your offer over while you debate your morality, circling you like a bored cat. You keep your expression perfectly neutral even with your thoughts in a tangled mess.

"Fine. I will hold you to that promise." He finally agrees, holding out his hand.

You flash him a smile and shake his hand before yanking off your backpack (you set the halberd on the ground next to you). "Perfect. I assume you can provide paper for Death also? He's not to type to keep stationary." You ask, pulling out a notebook one of the Watcher's gifted to you. It's hideously bright pink, and the pages have flowers on the edges, but you suppose it fits the Watchers' strange sense of humor.

"It would be no trouble." Vulgrim replies lightly, stopping to flutter over your shoulder. You don't really mind, having figured he'd read the notes before handing them over anyway.

It takes you hardly any time to scrawl, _Hey, so if you do get this can you please collect the pages Vulgrim wants? We made a deal. He's gonna help us (War and me, not Shadow) keep in contact w/ you and Dust. And Despair, I guess but I never really met him. Give them both a pet for me._

"A pet?" Vulgrim repeats, snickering.

"Yeah, like, petting? Just one lil pet though. Don't wanna spoil 'em." You shrug, folding the note in half and handing it to him. "He'll know it's me, I'm sure."

"Yes. I doubt Death gets much mail. He is rather fearsome. Although not nearly as charming you, I must admit." He hums, clearly trying to get in your good graces. You've gotta admit he's a great merchant.

"Save your sweet talk for War." You laugh, giving him a wain smile. "Speaking of which, he's talking a while..." You glance around, trying to find his bright red armor.

Vulgrim makes a noncommittal noise, moving to float in front of you. "So human... How did you come to be? I haven't seen one of the Third Kingdom in decades. And one so young...?"

You spend quite some time explaining your arrival and occupation to the demon, careful to keep any actually useful information to yourself. You tell enough to make him feel more comfortable around you though, which you figure is a good investment. Allies are a good thing.

By the time War finally returns, you've taken your letter to Death back and begun to color in the flowers. While War receives the horn and Vulgrim talks about Samael you also add a tiny caricature of Dust in the corner, which you're sure Death will appreciate.

"What are you doing?" An unwelcome voice hisses. _Ugh_.

You send it a mock-friendly smile and refold the letter. "Flirting with Death."

Shadow's eyes narrow, obviously unimpressed. "Remind me how you got this job?"

You blink. _Oh. That's_ \- "Wow, okay, asshole." You slowly get to your feet, pulling your halberd up with you. "I'm so offended by that _scaldingly original dig_." The sarcasm drips from your words as you brush past it. Strife would've given you a high five.

Yeah, there's _no way_ you'll admit you're actually hurt by its commentary.

You hand Vulgrim the improved letter before joining War in front of the gate. "Just use the horn." You chirp.

"This... Is alive, is it not?" He answers, watching it distrustfully.

"How did you know that?" You look at him curiously. "And yeah. It's friendly though."

He apparently doesn't care enough to answer, instead bringing the horn up to his lips.

 _Oh jeez, that's loud_. You clamp your hands down on your ears but that hardly helps. The noise makes your head pound. _Nice plan, advisor_ , you scold yourself as your knees hit the concrete.

It's over in a matter of seconds, as War stops when the creature begins to glow, but it's enough to render you to a puddle of pained whimpers. _God, why didn't I think of this? The freaken thing literally sends demons flying, I should've known it would have a bad effect on humans._

"Dammit." You distantly hear War curse. He plucks your halberd away before scooping you into his arms.

"Horseman." The gate golem says, the sound grating against your ear drums. "The horn call of my ancestor..." Yata, yata, yata. You're too preoccupied with the horrible head pain to really listen to it explain what you already know.

You do perk up a bit when War says, "None are free when the Destroyer still breathes."

He's got such a weird accent. All of them do, really, although its pretty faint. You wonder if that's a nephilim trait, or its something they picked up from traveling.

If you weren't nearly in tears you'd probably be telling him how nice it sounds. He should really talk more. God knows the other Horseman do.

You'll have enough time for miss them later though. Right now you should concentrate on not throwing up. That sounds like a _great_ plan of action. You pull your knees closer to your chest as the golem stomps away, trusting War not to drop you.

"If that was the gate, I can't wait to see what's on the other side," Shadow says, sounding genuinely excited. It moves to poke at you, "Get up, advisor. We've got things to do."

"Screw yourself." You groan, thankful when War moves you out of its reach. Shadow makes a huffing noise in reply, returning to the gauntlet. _Well, that was surprisingly civil_... You think. "I think I'm good though." You add, looking up at War.

He gives you a scalding glare, his scowl having returned. "I doubt it."

"Well, now that that is over..." Vulgrim starts, sounding amused. You don't remember him sticking around in game, so this strikes you as odd. "Would you like to look over my wares?"

You send War a frown, trying to will him not to go shopping. _We've got better things to do._

Unfortunately War doesn't seem to care. He takes his sweet time deciding whether or not to buy any of the little charms Vulgrim has. Apparently that's what the upgrades are 'in real life'. You're still having a hard time realizing this is an actual thing. You're _literally in a game right now._

You're also _literally_ a demon slayer, but that's way more badass than disconcerting.

War sets you down only when you're safely inside the building and near hissing for him to do so. The entire situation is mortifying, and you know it'll haunt you. When you finally steady yourself, War has to go and ruin it by poking at your face. You never really thought _metal fucking claws_ prodding at your jaw would make you blush.

"You're bleeding." He says, sounding mildly concerned. "Humans truly are delicate creatures."

You mentally note that he didn't say weak. Delicate makes you sound... Cute. "You should've seen me before all my training." You answer lightly, moving to wipe away the blood. You feel over your jaw like War did, finding it falling from your ear. _Ouch_. "Although I doubt I can fix my hearing."

"Your... chain will likely prevent any permanent damage." He grunts, pointedly turning his attention to your surroundings.

You assume he's done talking for the moment and nearly jump out of your skin when he asks, "Who trained you?"

"Uh, Fury at first. She covered the basics until we all decided I should get a wide swinging weapon. Then we tracked Death down and he took over. Strife tried too, but the kickback on Mercy was enough to floor me."

"They were all together?" He sounds dubious.

You shrug, "They collectively agreed training me could benefit you. Death and Strife got into a fight at least once a day though, and Fury and Strife only got along marginally better."

He seems to be interested, although he doesn't voice it.

You motion for the two of you to start moving again before continuing, "But Strife and I got along really well. Fury is really friendly too! She just... Has a weird way of expressing affection. And Death is Death, you know? Lately I think he's warmed up to me more, but that could be wishful thinking on my part. Dust is very nice also."

"The bird." War scoffs, jumping down to the main floor of the second room. He then turns around and holds up his arms, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly.

You hesitate just a second (those claws _are_ rather intimidating) before jumping. He catches you effortlessly and with surprising gentleness, although the armor still pricks at you through your clothing.

 _Nice_ , you think. You're unable to stop yourself really.

"Yes. The bird. He's like the cutest one here, lets be honest." You go on, only stopping when you're forced to deal with a few enemies. Thankfully War takes care of all the Wicked while you dance around the bigger exploding demon. You don't think you can kill what used to be humans, and War seems to understand that.

You point to the pool in the lower floor afterwards, stating in a slightly aggressive tone, "There's a chest on the other side of that. And more enemies."

War nods and descends.

You scale the library shelves while he takes care of that, unsurprised to find a few demons of your own. You're pleased to note that you can slaughter them without getting hit once, _although they are the lowest_ , you remind yourself. You've gotta keep working towards being stronger.

You do allow yourself a pleased grin when the souls go flying to War and he glances your way. You're then left staring at the glowing soldier artifact with narrowed eyes. You know War can't make that jump without Shadow Flight but... He could probably throw you over pretty easily. _Like that one dungeon in Darksiders 2. Although I'm not nearly as graceful as Death. That boy is smoother than ice_ , you snicker.

Then there's the question of how you'll get back, but you'd wager he can catch you fairly easily even from a greater height.

You decide it's a pretty good plan and not-so patiently wait for War to join you on the broken bridge.

"What is that?" He asks, gauging the distance.

You flash him a confident smile, "One of the artifacts Vulgrim wants so bad. He'll trade 'em for souls. Wanna help me?" You set your halberd on the ground, knowing you can't keep it on your back while doing acrobat routines.

He heaves a sigh, and you're struck by the similarity to Strife's mock-annoyed sighs. _Oh._ You doubt he'd like being compared to Strife though, so you keep your mouth shut.

He bends down a bit and holds out his hand, which you step onto. Thankfully Fury thought this would be a good skill to learn, so you're prepared when he flings you over the gap. You land in a perfect somersault.

"How cool was that?" You ask with a laugh, glancing back at War.

He doesn't react that you can see, but Shadow seeps out of the gauntlet. You turn around before it can have that satisfaction and allow it to bitch about taking too long while you grab the artifact. It's icy to the touch and thrumming with weak power, much to your surprise. _Weird_.

You carefully wrap it in one of your spare shirts before shoving it in your backpack. You don't want some ancient evil getting anywhere near your food supply after all.

War is still waiting on the other side when you return, now glaring at Shadow. Its going on and on about something or another, hissing all the while. And here you thought it was annoying in game.

 _Guess I'm on my own then_. You hmph.

You sit down on the edge of the bridge before hopping down, bending your knees and holding your arms out for balance. "A plus," You congratulate yourself lightly, moving to the demonic growth wall. You're less then shocked by the grossly slimy texture (but it is still unsettling), digging the tips of your fingers into the fleshy wall. _Disgusting._

You're going to ask the Blackhammer for gauntlets (or at least something similar to Fury's claws) you decide in that second, very carefully scaling the wall. You are _not_ going to make a habit of touching this... Substance.

War is all the way on the other side of the room by the time you scamper up the book shelf again ( _some of us can't just jump_ ), but he does wait at the doorway with your halberd held awkwardly out for you.

"Thanks." You hum, reclaiming the weapon. It shimmers in return, making your smile widen. _I missed you too. Wait._ "I was meaning to ask you that. Is ChaosEater sentient? The Council mentioned it thirsting for blood or something, but I always figured that was dramatics."

He doesn't answer right away, giving you a strange look. "Not in the sense you and I are sentient. It experiences vague feelings and pushes them onto me. Yours is a nephilim weapon also?"

"Yup! Or similar enough. Death got it for me after deeming me 'worthy'." You nod, following him out into the last hallway before the Scalding Gallow.

"I do not remember Death being so fond of humans." He comments lightly.

"Oh, he's not. He's not overly fond of me either, I don't think. But when I explained I'm gonna be helping you stay alive and all that, he agreed that training was in everyone's best interest. And I convinced him to try and resurrect humanity! Although, I think he was planning on that anyway. Nevertheless." You shrug, acutely aware you're hogging the conversation. War _is_ pretty quiet though.

"That's what I was talking to Vulgrim about by the way. I made a deal so we can communicate with Death." You grin, vainly hoping you've impressed him. You're not exactly sure why you allow yourself such a hope, considering you know War isn't the type to throw around compliments. _Bodies, maybe._

War's eyes narrow, "What kind of deal?"

"Nothing you wouldn't have done without me here. Collecting the artifacts just got sweeter. Death also has a fetch quest for Vulgrim, although I really doubt he'd appreciate it being called that."

"Hmph." War sort of responds, moving to throw the doors open.

You pretend you're not colossally disappointed by the lack of praise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clarify, War's Watcher/Shadow does use it/its pronouns!! that way there's no overlap of pronouns. War uses he/him ofc & reader uses they/them in text, altho reader is not gendered and you can imagine them any way you'd like. reader also doesnt have a set race, age, or appearance so go wild 
> 
> also: reader currently has two weapons, the halberd and a handgun


	8. Would You Like To Make A Deal?

"Treasure." You trill, motioning vaguely to the left.

War sends you a weak glare before doing as requested anyway, while you wander towards the glassy... Demonic stuff that can be blown up after receiving the Crossblade. Then you can access the subway bit and make your way to the Griever's lair, where you can hopefully get some gloves and War will receive his Mercy replica.

 _There's just so much to do_ , you think dismally. Your lips curling back in annoyance, you heave a sigh.

War jumps down next to you before you can sink any lower in your anxiety, his eyebrows raised curiously.

"I..." You can't find the words to explain. You finally just settle on, "Our... ally is that way. And so's a bigger demon, but you can take 'em."

He nods and walks on ahead. You follow behind with a frown, beginning to dig your nails into the engravings of your halberd. _I need Strife,_ you wish, fully aware it's impossible. You can practically hear him teasing, _Now who's the clingy one?_

"You've killed many of my warriors." The big boss demon says.

_Wait, what?_

You blink back into the present at the sound of that growly demon language, glancing between War's stone cold expression and the overly cocky demon. You're much more concerned with the fact you _understood_ him though.

"I've yet to find a warrior among you." War replies coolly. You very carefully move closer to the edge of the battle field while he does so, happy to note the demon doesn't seem to even register your presence.

"Do you know what's imprisoned here? There are things even you should fear, Horseman." The demon goes on, pointing with his ax. "Once you were strong. But now... You are WEAK and you are alone."

 _Arguable_ , you protest silently.

"The Destroyer knows of your coming. Even now, he moves his legions against you." This demon is really starting to get on your nerves.

War seems pretty unaffected though. "Then I will make this quick." He's just a chilly as ever. You remain near the sidelines as he moves in, waiting.

"Destroy him!" The General yells. You're hardly surprised when four of those blue demons crawl out of the ground. War also seems less than impressed.

You take this as your cue to help out, and nearly bisect one of them before they have the time to realize there's two of you on the battlefield. You yank your weapon back with a disgusted scowl. " _Gross_... War, I think I can handle these." You tell him, pointedly taking a jab at the nearest one. "Please, kill the big guy."

You make sure to word it as a request rather than an order, both because War wouldn't take kindly to orders and you don't really feel its your place to be giving them. Yes, the Council made it abundantly clear than you outrank both Shadow and War as far as they're concerned, but that just seems... Wrong.

You're also putting into consideration the future, in which War will be a free Horseman. You _do not_ want to end up with ChaosEater through your chest.

You do have to factor in the others though. War is probably marginally fonder of you now that he knows of your relationships with his siblings. You doubt it's enough to keep you alive if you start trying to play power games like Shadow does though, so being friendly is really in your best interest.

 _And... Maybe he'll be friendly in return_. You think, smiling cheerfully. You make sure to keep your mouth closed though. You really don't wanna figure out what demon blood tastes like.

You mentally begin planning out your "how to befriend War" list while you continue to keep the little ones off War. The demon General seems awfully annoyed when you quickly glance their way, but he's going to be dead in a few minutes anyway. You turn your attention back to the lesser demons, making a wide arch with the halberd to force them farther back. You can only kill one of them at a time after all.

It doesn't take too long, but you're nonetheless extremely thankful when you hear the distinct sound of War finishing the General off. _God, can you die any louder?_ You roll your eyes.

War helps you kill the last of the blue demons, flashing a small smirk when he sees your irritated and blood splattered face. "Did they not prepare you for the mess?" He asks.

"They're so fucking gross." You respond, shuddering dramatically. "And the snarling is just.  _Ugh_."

For a split second you think he's going to smile, only for Shadow to seep out of the gauntlet. It glides over the nearest gargoyle contraption, calling, "Over here!"

"Oh, yeah," You glance at the others, noticing that one of them is in fact already on. You must've missed that.

"Only one hideous blood puking gargoyle? The plumbing must be clogged up." Shadow continues, motioning for War to get on it.

You turn your gaze away, trying to find an area to stand where you won't get your shoes completely soaked with blood. Having your first outfit now stained is more than enough for today.

You give a pleased hum when War pulls the last gargoyle into place and the rivers of deep red blood flow harmlessly by your feet.

This is completely shot when War forcefully yanks you closer by the back of your shirt. Your heel lands squarely in one of the moats, and you feel it begin to soak through. "Hey!" You snarl, the sound all but covered by the horribly loud groaning of the first seal of Samael's prison being broken.

You shield your eyes when fire shoots up, cursing Samael's flair for dramatics. _Honestly, do you have to make such a cool entrance?_ No _. The answer is no._

"War! Come to play executioner?" He bellows, rising out of the ground. He has a very graceful and quiet landing though, so you have no reason to complain. War would've made a crater. "They should've sent all four of you."

"I have no interest in killing you, Samael." War responds.

"Yeah, we're out for the Destroyer." You add on helpfully. Samael's eyes flicker down to you with interest, and once again you realize he literally did not notice you until you did something.

 _Am I wearing some anti-demon cloaking device or something? What the hell?_ You want to ask.

"The Destroyer? He is out of your reach, out of mine, and certainly out of this... Thing's." he says, bending down a bit to get a better look at you.

_Rude._

"Has prison made you a coward?" War asks, instantly drawing the heat off you. Both literally and figuratively. You hide behind his arm when Samael breathes fire right in his face. War remains impassive, while you nervously shift from foot to foot and latch onto War's arm. The lukewarm metal is comforting under your palms.

"...Perhaps there is a way." Samael finally says, after he's done throwing his little hissy fit. "But you will need to get into the Destroyer's Spire. The tower is guarded by four of his Chosen-"

You hold up a hand, stopping him with the iciest tone you can muster, "How about you _don't_ lie to our faces, yeah? Because I realize War's been more or less dead for the last hundred years, so you think you can pull the wool over our eyes, but _fortunately_ I'm here."

Samael pauses, glaring down at you. "Do you wish for death, human? You believe yourself important enough to throw such accusations?"

 _Nice try_.

"I don't fear _death_. And... Admittedly, yes. Now, tell me, Samael, are you going to continue your attempt at manipulating War to fit your agenda, or can we make a deal?" Your lips curl into a perfectly crafted self-satisfied smirk.

"What do you know?" Samael growls, leaning down to look you in the eyes. You hear the clink of War grabbing the hilt of ChaosEater, but he doesn't quite draw it. The action itself is comforting though.

"That the Chosen are keeping your power levels on lock and you need War. The question is really what you can do in return." You reply fearlessly. _Or at the very least, fearless sounding._

Samael's eyes narrow, his teeth bared threateningly. "And _what_ does a human need?" He spits 'human' as if the very word offends him.

You hold up two fingers, pretending that your fingers aren't shaking. "One, entrance to Black Throne. Two, I want your word you will not actively try to kill of any of the Horseman after you get superpower'ed again. Your servants too. The Horseman are off limits."

You're completely aware he's probably not going to actually keep the promise. You do, however, know striking a deal and acting generally unafraid will either make Samael respect you or want your head. _Or both. Both is also pretty good_ , in your opinion.

You're still pretty new to this whole manipulation thing though.

Samael falls silent (you count eight heartbeats), staring you down. "And why do you seek to protect them?"

You shrug carelessly, "Just stacking the odds in my favor."

"You have nerve, human." He states, looking almost amused.

You give him your name is return, perhaps a little bit snippy. Nicknames, fine, but being called _human_ every two seconds is annoying. "And I usually call our Watcher Shadow, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't." He hmphs, glancing to War and back at you. "We have a deal. Under normal circumstances I would offer a blood oath, but your kind are notoriously weak."

 _Ugh, why does everyone have to pull that card?_ Your lips pull into a scowl before you catch yourself. "Doesn't matter. Verbal contracts are legally binding and all that." You try to play it off with a wave. You're not sure it worked, considering you're cowering behind War's arm and all, but hey.

"Where will we find these Chosen then?"

 _We. War just called us we_. You press your lips together to keep from smiling. He didn't put any particular emphasis on the word, but you consider it a good sign. In game you remember him saying "I" despite being with Shadow.

"Can't your friend tell you that?" Samael replies. You're too busy being a lovesick fool to really notice. _We_.

"First, seek the Twilight Cathedral, where the bat queen Tiamat has gone to roost. The whole of her domain is a blistered inferno. By land, you will never reach it." Samael waves a hand and black energy wraps itself around War. Your chain reacts instantly, sending you tumbling backwards with a wave of white hot protective energy.

"Ouch." You hiss. Rubbing at your now sore shoulder, you decide you don't want to stand up quite yet.

If the demon notices your fall, he doesn't make it known. "Take this and seek the high ground... And bring me back her still beating heart." Samael then disappears back into what you assume is just the lower area of his prison.

War bats his shadowy wings once, testing them out before he moves to yank you off the ground. "Your chain rejects demonic energy." He says, only pausing a moment when you press your forehead to his pauldron. Which you definitely don't do because it reminds you of Strife. _Of course not_.

"Can I rest before we try to kill Tiamat?" You ask, your voice dropping into a tired murmur. With Samael gone you're quickly running out of adrenaline, and the fighting you did earlier is taking its tole. "Vulgrim has a shop nearby."

He makes an annoyed noise but agrees. "We should not loiter. There's plenty of abandoned buildings nearby."

"Thank you." You say, sending him a smile.

He tilts his head in your direction but doesn't respond vocally.

You follow War around the area until he finds a building that's up to his standards and 'easily defendable'. He stands in front of the door while you wearily change, eat a small meal, set up your bed, and finally collapse.

* * *

You wake up violently, reaching out for your halberd. You _know_ it won't help chase away the nightmares, but you're horribly aware that Strife isn't here and _you need him, dammit_. You're too cold and overheating at the same time, the chain weighing heavy on your waist.

"Adviser." War says.

You glance at him wildly. "War."

He pauses, taking a few steps closer. "...nightmares?"

He stops moving when your eyes flood with tears. "I... Can we just kill Tiamat?" You think better of spilling your guts. _Maybe later. Or when Shadow isn't around. Which is to say when it's dead._

War nods and waits for you to scrounge up your resources and shove them into your backpack. When you look back up Shadow is looming over you. You _regrettably_ flinch, and it makes a pleased noise. Almost like a hum, although you're not sure how it would make such a sound. Or any sound for that matter. _It doesn't have a mouth._

"Had a good nap, adviser?" It asks, reaching out to fix your hair.

You go rigid but don't stop it. _There has to be some reason it's come out of the gauntlet._ You're waiting for the second shoe to drop. "...Not particularly." You answer slowly.

"Miss your _bedmate_?"

 _And there it is_. You narrow your eyes, a million and three snappy comebacks poised on your tongue. Unfortunately all that comes out is, "Why are you so salty? Like, pick up some new insults."

Behind the two of you War snorts.

Shadow narrows its eyes, "I am not _salty_. Simply concerned your... _Heart_ isn't in the right place. Remember your loyalty to the Council."

"Loyalty." You repeat mockingly. "As if that's what you care about. You just want to take a cheap shot at my _completely fucking chaste_ relationship with Strife. Why, I still have yet to figure out."

You're losing your temper at this point, and _you know it._ But its hard to control when you're already emotional and its baiting you. You purposely keep your hands away from your halberd though. You aren't _that_ rash.

"Adviser, do not allow it under your skin." War tells you.

"Fine." You huff, grabbing your weapon and getting to your feet. You shove past the Watcher. "You're right. We've got demons to kill."

War smirks.

"Touchy." Shadow hmphs, seeping back into War's gauntlet.

You ignore it and continue, "We should probably talk to Vulgrim again before trying to take on Tiamat. Then we can come back here later."

"Are you sure it is not because you want to see if Death has responded?" He asks, allowing you to lead the way.

"That is also a factor. It's a shame I haven't figured out how to communicate with Fury and Strife though. They've both missed you, ya know." You hum. "In their own way at least."

War seems interested, so you continue, "Strife was always talking about you. I think you're his favorite, after me of course. He's still horrible at expressing affection though. Besides being super clingy."

"Clingy?" War repeats incredulously.

"Yeah—" You stop to take out a few demons. "What were we talking about?"

Pausing, War resets ChaosEater on his back, "Strife."

"Oh. Yes!" You smile and chatter on about his siblings until you reach Vulgrim's shop. And here you thought it would be awkward traveling with War. You even get him to almost smile at one point, the slight tilt of his lips making you stop. _Cute._

"Ahh, welcome back!" Vulgrim says when you enter his little shop. "Come to look over my wares?"

You smile lightly and unzip your backpack. "Maaaybe. Guess what I've brought?" You hold out the artifact.

The demon makes a pleased purr as he takes it, "Death is ahead of you, I'm afraid. Nonetheless, I thank you." He presses a light grey, neatly folded note in your palm.

"Nice." You respond. You pointedly nod for War to continue shopping before unfolding it. You want to make sure that Death is cool with Shadow reading your shoulder via-War.

 _Of course_ , you think, seeing the ornate script. You're not sure if it's his actual handwriting or he's trying to get a rise out of you. Either is viable.

_Hello. I have already begun collecting the pages, and expect you to 'convince' War to do the same. I assume you've met with your "symbiotic partner"? You're allowed to tell me who it is now, are you not? Hopefully no one too horrible._

_Don't die, Dust will receive your pets after this mess is over._

_Tell War I say hello. There is another letter on the back of this, farther down the page. Do not allow the Watcher to read our correspondence._

Your lips tilt into a smile. His speech translates so... awkwardly onto print. You flip the page over, seeing a shorter letter meant for War. You quickly flip it back over. It feels too personal for you to read it.

You carefully fold it at the end of your letter and rip it. Tucking your note into your back-pocket, you call, "War, big bro sent you a message too."

War snaps to attention, although he plays it off fairly well. "A moment, adviser."

You nod and tuck War's piece into your front pocket. Settling onto the floor, you then take out your notebook and pen.

_Awesome. I really appreciate it! Also if you want to skip this next line you can, but War is so cute. The cutest._

_But that's not important! We did meet with our friendly neighborhood demon. Samael and I have already gotten into a fairly tense argument too. I think he was trying to intimidate me into letting him pull the wool over War's eyes, but screw that._

_Real talk I was fucking terrified. I stood my ground though! And War protected me. He was really sweet about it too. Which, by the way, is absolutely horrible. I don't deserve this Death. He's cute and vicious and Wow I Am Rambling._

_You probably don't care about that and I think War is almost done trying to haggle with Vulgrim. We're going to kill Tiamat first._

_Please stay safe._

You fold your letter back up and hand it to Vulgrim. "If you do read it, don't... Mention it."

"Of course not!" He assures you.

"So what've you been up to? Made any other friends?" You ask comradely.

Vulgrim leans closer and grins, "There is a-"

"What did Death have to say?" War interrupts.

You roll your eyes. I'm trying to gossip. "Yeah, yeah." You say, pulling out the letter. "Here. I'm keeping my half. If you wanna write a reply I've got more paper."

War plucks the letter from you and scans over it.

"I didn't read it by the way." You tell him, smiling awkwardly at Vulgrim. He snickers.

"It will not be necessary to respond." He says slowly. You only flinch a little bit when he proceeds to tear the note into tiny pieces.

I wanted to read that. "War!" You hiss, "That's not very nice."

He has the gall to smirk at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapters title is 100% meant to be read in garfield the deal warlocks voice.


	9. Lost In Translation

"How will we reach the Cathedral?"

"You'll see." You say, thankful to be out of that dreadful cave. You resorted to just wearing your undershirt halfway through, much to War's confusion. Apparently Horseman are much less susceptible to extreme temperatures. "We have to get through the rest of this area and the broken stair first anyway."

"You have a name for everything." War says, like he's making some kind of _statement._ You're just not sure what kind. 

"That's just what I remember them being called. I'll admit I'm pretty horrible and directions though, so I'll be relying on you for that." You shrug lightly, switching into work mode. "There's... Quite a few chests, or coffins or whatever, you want to call them nearby, plus another artifact and a Vulgrim location."

"You remember from where?" He asks.

You make an honest effort not to squirm under his harsh gaze. "I'm not allowed to talk about that. The Council has me on lock." Your free hand moves to your chain link belt, worrying the smooth metal. _Please don't ask me about this._

War nods. "Of course. I will not pry then."

"Thank you." You smile. "So... We can collect all the loot and then I'll chat with Vulgrim while you handle the Shadow realm." You quickly change the subject, returning your grip to your halberd.

He takes the bait, thankfully. "The Shadow Realm."

"Yes. I don't think I can join you, unfortunately." You press the flat of your halberd against your ear. "Frail human."

War sighs, a scowl appearing. "I told you not to allow 'Shadow' to bother you."

 _He's trying to comfort me?_ You blink. "What? It didn't. I meant in general. Are... Okay, actually it is _way_ too early to be having heart to hearts." Shaking your head, you stride away towards where you remember the artifact being. "We've got better things to do then cater to my feelings."

He seems to think this is an acceptable reply, and you continue over the Choking Grounds in silence.

It's only when War finds the second 'gate' that you leave to go find Vulgrim. He doesn't seem to mind, and Shadow doesn't even bother to bid you farewell.

"Hello, dear human!" The demon greets as you ascend the steps. "Have you brought your Horseman?"

"War is his own Horseman." You answer tersely, finding yourself irritated by the insinuation. "And right now he's in the Shadow Realm, so I've got time to kill."

Vulgrim laughs, "Lucky you."

You make an excited squeaking noise when he pulls out another sheet of grey paper. "Oh, wow, he's already replied? That's great!"

Vulgrim lets you tear the paper out of his hands without trouble, laughing as you skim over it. "Death seems to think War _your_ Horseman, you know."

"I doubt..." You drift off.

_You picked a fight with Samael? Samael? Why am I not surprised?_

_And yes, I am aware you are completely enamored with my youngest brother. Thank you for the reminder. Speaking of Vulgrim, have you had this planned from the beginning? You knew I would be more or less trapped in the "Tri-Force." Sidenote: the Makers do not understand your references either._

_I should be telling you to stay safe, human. Let War do the fighting._

"See what I mean?" Vulgrim hums. "Enamored."

"Vulgrim." You warn, glaring up at him.

He just laughs, and you take this as a dismissal. You settle onto the floor with a light smile, taking out your notebook and pen. You find the wind-chime noise to be calming. _Hmmmm_... "What should I say?"

Vulgrim's decorations rattle when he shrugs, "Buy better armor? Request that his bird stay far away from my chimes?"

You snort. "Oh, Dust."

You have more time to think out your response this time, but you're still unfinished when War reappears. You even have forewarning, the giant stone golem creature stomping away from its post. You quietly thank War for not trying to deafen you again while you scribble the last lines of you note.

_I didn't "pick a fight" with Samael. I prevented him from manipulating and lying to War, in an arguably reckless manner. We all knew I'm reckless though, I mean, I share a bed with Strife._

_Which I'm apparently notorious for. Did you know that? For some reason Shadow keeps referencing that particular fact and I'm really confused? Honestly I cannot for the life of me figure out why it would do that. Unless it can't come up with any better insults, but I sort of doubt that. Your thoughts?_

_And yes. I did know about the whole Tri-force deal. I didn't think of asking Vulgrim to help us communicate until a few days before our departure though._

_Did I mention War chucked me across a gap? I landed perfectly. It was amazing, Death. Fury would've been proud._

_And what did that letter you sent War say? He just gave me this Look and tore it to pieces. So irritating._

_Oh. Also. War thinks I'm immune to demonic energy. I've got no idea what that means, but I feel like it's an important thing to mention. I forgot last time. Both Samael and Vulgrim didn't seem to notice me at first too, which was very odd._

_..._

You finish the letter with three little hearts.

"Ready to proceed?" War asks, glancing down at you curiously.

Folding the letter, you get to your feet. "...yes."

You loiter just a bit longer while War decides whether or not he'll buy the scythe Vulgrim has to offer (the answer is yes). As you depart, Vulgrim shamelessly looks over your letter, giggling maniacally.

You roll your eyes in response, turning your attention to War. "Death says hi."

He gives you a look. "Did he?" His tone makes it obvious he doesn't believe you.

"No. He judged my life choices and accused me of knowing he would be trapped in the stupid makers realm. Which, is actually true, but whatever." You shrug, dutifully following the Horseman.

"You did know." He reiterates.

"I literally just said that." You deadpan. You move one hand to your burn scars, feeling the uneven skin. "It was necessary and I couldn't just... Tell him the future outright."

He glances back at you. Looking at the chain, you assume. "Why is it necessary?"

"To farther his storyline." You shrug lightly. Your chain sends you a warning heat, forcing you to think your next words out carefully. "His story is important. To the both of us... I can almost guarantee that you won't have to wait too long to see him again though."

War gives you an almost smile, although you'd call it more of a small twitch if his lips. _Still progress_ , you cheer silently.

You then try not so silently to get War to loosen up a bit more, going on and on about various aspects of your life both before and after your trans-dementional travel. Nothing _serious,_ or liable to make you homesick but little pieces. Simple things. 

The only time you get any sort of reaction aside from minor glares and grunts is when you flinch as War kicks the door to the underground open. He seems _awfully_ amused when you clutch your halberd defensively and shift into a fighting stance. You stick your tongue out in reply.

 _He's right though, I should try to calm down_. You tell yourself, brushing past the infuriating Horseman. Only to realize there's a ledge you have to scale up.

"Ugh." You groan quietly, throwing your halberd over first and trying to grab the lip. "Fuckin post apoco- WAR!" Your voice breaks as War grabs you just under your ribs and helps you up.

 _Oh my god_. Is about the only thing you can think of, while War hops onto the ledge beside you. You pretend you can't feel heat creeping up your neck as you retrieve your halberd and follow him out to the main area.

 _And here I thought Strife could fluster me._ You picture Fury giggling behind her hand and congratulating you on romancing her 'baby brother'.

"Thank you?" You finally say, your eyebrows furrowing.

War doesn't respond, and you're pretty sure it for the best. You follow him with your halberd held tight and ready to lash out at the first thing that moves towards you.

Which, as it turns out, is a bat. You knock it to the floor with one quick swipe and then spear it. It makes a horrible noise as it dies, but you distract yourself by asking War if you could just shoot them.

You and Strife had come to a middle ground with your firearms, and although you still use the same gun from your home Strife did some weird nephilim magic on it. It's much stronger now and _allegedly_ has infinite ammunition. You don't really question how they do these things at this point.

War opens the chest in the far corner of the area before answering you. "If you aim it well, perhaps." He responds dubiously. "Strife?"

"Of course." You hum, pausing long enough to grab said gun. You tilt it so War can make out the bright gold etchings. "Still have no idea what he did though."

War makes a face, shaking his head. "You don't want to."

This makes you grin. "Ohhh, _mysterious_."

He mutters something that sounds an awful lot like "Or _murderous_." and scoops you into his arms. You keep your mouth shut this time and absolutely do not make any embarrassingly fanlike noises.

You have to admit though, gliding with the shadow wings is much less terrifying than your other experiences. You wouldn't go as far as to say _relaxing_ and your heart is still hammering in your chest, but it is marginally better.

He sets you back down on the other side of the gap and immediately begins to cut down the rest of the bats. You just try to regulate your breathing. _Just wait until the ride to Tiamat's place_ , some malicious part of you snickers.

 _Oh fuck_. Your eyes go wide, conjuring images of the angelic mount and the lava and _ohhh no... This is very, very bad._

"Adviser." War calls, glancing at you questioningly.

You force a smile. "Sorry. I'm totally ready."

He turns away as you catch up, throwing the door open. You dutifully follow him inside, your anxiousness only increasing when demonic sigils creep up both escape routes after you.

War casts you a look you're rapidly becoming familiar with. The _why didn't you tell me about this_ look.

"First rule of fight club?" You offer. You're too distracted by War's perplexed expression to notice the demon's circle appearing on ground to your left until your chain sends you slamming into the wall.

 _Right, allergic to demonic energy. I suppose that includes summoning... Things_ , you think miserably. This little kink is going to cause you a lot of grievances. You can feel it in your bruised right side.

You can feel it in your bruised right side. 

Shakily getting to your feet and using your halberd as a crutch, you opt to shoot at any demon that comes near until War jumps in to slaughter them. All the while you're trying to narrow down what the chain considers demonic energy. It didn't seem to mind Vulgrim popping out of that circle of his, but its obviously opposed to both the shadow flight (or maybe Samael in general?) and these lowly demons summoning.

War for once does not rush ahead of you once all of the demons are dead and the barriers disappears. Instead he moves to your side and _growls_ , "Be careful. Are you injured?"

You suddenly know where Fury gets her "kind words, vicious tone" thing. 

"I... I'm fine. A little sore is all. I'm good to go." You answer nervously. You wonder where the person who sassed Samael has run off to. They're certainly no where to be found now.

War bares his teeth in annoyance, stomping away from you.

You're not sure whether you should be flattered ( _he's worried about me_ ) or offended ( _that's not how to treat an injured human_ ). You settle on both and grip your halberd with a fierce grin. "Wait up!"

War's footsteps falter before resuming at a slower pace, while you stumble to his side. Each movement sends a wave of pain through your body (namely your ribs and arm). It's unfortunate, really.

You make sure to keep the pain off your face though. _Because I don't want to worry War,_ some part of you reasons, but you know yourself well enough to recognize it as an issue of pride. You don't want to admit you're so weak.

You do, however, allow War to take care of the bats and Wicked in the area and try to casually look over your injury. The back of your hand is scraped something nasty, although thankfully its superficial and only bleeding a tiny bit. Yanking up your sleeve, you find bruises blossoming up your forearm. You'll no doubt have the same sort of markings all up your right side.

"Gross." You groan. You're about to cover it back up when Shadow's freakishly long fingers brush yours out of the way.

"Owww, what _have_ you done to yourself?" It hisses.

You blink. _Is that honest concern or...?_ "My leash has some glitches." You answer slowly. "It threw me."

The Watcher laughs, "Is that what'd you call it?"

"Well sorry I don't have a fuckin degree in linguistics, Shadow." You scowl.

"Shadow." It repeats with irritation. "What would that make you, Adviser?"

"I think you just answered your own question." You say, raising your eyebrows. You silently pray that War finishes whatever the hell he's doing soon.

"No, that is your _title_ , as War is a Horseman and I am a Watcher. Because I am 'Shadow' and War is presumably a dog, that would make you..." It drifts off, prolonging the moment. "Glitch."

You bristle instantly, your hands curling into fists. "Excuse me? I'm not an error- well. _Well_..." You have to admit it has a point. You _are_ sort of a glitch in this universe. "I'm still offended."

Shadow appears rather proud of itself for ruffling you up. "I know."

"You could've at least picked something I didn't _just_ say." You hiss. Hearing War draw near, you yank your arm from its grip and reset your sleeve.

His gaze lingers on said sleeve, obviously not trusting you're 'I'm fine' from earlier. "There is a lower area with Vulgrim's wind chimes." He says.

"We should probably head there first and then we go through the hotel." You reason, happy to change the subject. Shadow seeps back into War's gauntlet with a laugh. "There's an artifact too, I think. You'll have to swim."

"You can't?" He asks. 

You press your lips together. "I can't. I've already said I'm a mouth-breather." You finger quote over mouth-breather. "And you like swimming." You can't remember who mentioned it, but its stuck out to you as _cute._

He grimaces, but doesn't contest that. You take that as good sign and follow him down the steps with a smile. "Hey, when you talk to Vulgrim I'm gonna try to wash the blood off, okay?"

You never thought cleanliness would bring you such joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually love this chapter bc all of them are trying So Hard but they dont know each others quirks well enough to understand Anything 
> 
> war: *expresses concern in his own way*  
> advisor: He Hates Me And Thinks I'm Weak 
> 
> advisor: *shares their past in an attempt to bond*  
> war: Theyre Rambling Because I Made Them Uncomfortable 
> 
> and then the watchers just. suffering. these dumbasses.


	10. Angels Are A Thing, I Guess

Its only week one and _three_ (3) of your outfits are ruined. You realize this with a detached sort of annoyance, knowing that there's nothing to be done about it. There are worse things going on, including the alarming bruises you discovered on your ribs, but... you _liked_ that shirt. Strife picked it out for you. And you only have so many until you'll have to wear them regardless of bloodstains. 

"Are you done?" War asks, watching you fold up the rest of your clothes. After confirming Death has yet to respond to your latest correspondence ( _what a jerk_ ) you decided that a quick sponge bath was in order and then scrubbed your clothes as clean as you could.

"Arguably." You press your lips together and swing the backpack on. "I can't believe Death is going to make me wait until we're in the Cathedral to answer." Grabbing your halberd, you motion for him to lead the way.

His eyes narrow, "You have him running errands."

"Only one, and it's for the betterment of humanity." You hmph, crossing your arms over your chest (which is significantly harder to do without stabbing yourself now. Not that you don't _adore_ your halberd).

War stops midstep, nearly causing you to run into him. You raise an eyebrow, "War?"

"I cannot believe Strife has never used that before." He says slowly, appearing honestly perplexed.

You smile proudly. "What? To the betterment of the nephilim? Mine's got a little bit more bite, don't'cha think?"

War shakes his head and starts walking again. 

You launch into another tale of your time with Strife, a smile on your face. It seems appropriate, and the silence bothers you. When you're quiet you can hear the Wicked's voices, the hoarse almost human noises they make, and the sound of the buildings crumbling.

It's easier to just blabber on than be reminded you're actually the last human. Yes, it's fun to think jokingly, but... _Still_.

You decide not to think about it, instead pointing the hotel out to War and reminding him, "That way. We've gotta get up there." You nod towards the highway. Or the _remains_ of a highway, more appropriately.

War makes quick work of the few demons within while you head upstairs. It's easier to stay on pace with him when you've got a head start, as odd as that sounds. You entertain yourself by trying to open the chest off to the right of the staircase, although even hitting it as hard as you dare with your palm doesn't move the mechanism. You don't even try to punch it like War does knowing without a doubt that it would break your hand. Just punching a _person_ could break your hand in fact.

Sighing, you move to the exit.

"Chest." You say as War clambers up the stairs (you don't think he could be quiet if he tried). He raises an eyebrow and you point it out. "I'm like eighty percent sure I bruised my hand and I have a new respect for you punching them open."

You swear you see his mouth twitch before he turns away. _Nice_ , you think happily. You're busy mentally bragging to Strife when he returns to your side and scoops you up princess style. You have to admit you'd rather be on his back where he can't see your blush, but those wings will not allow it.

He sets you down as soon as he lands though, which you're thankful for. "There's another chest over there. It's a shard of something or another." Your voice is higher than usual. _Ugh_.

You purposely avoid looking at War and instead shoot down the first of the bats. Once it's on the ground it's very easy for you to take care of.

The screeching noise it makes you a shudder though. You allow War to take care of the other two after you shoot them down and dance around the Wicked until he can also kill that.

You wait on the edge for him get back from picking up the shard, mentally going over how to survive the twilight cathedral. _It's going to be so damn hot_ , you cry. You very much doubt you'll be able to brush her lava off as easy as you did the Council's.

You're probably frowning as War plucks you off the ground.

It's must've been pretty obvious that you're anxious too, because War asks, "Something wrong?"

You press your lips together. "Nothing. It's just..." You're interrupted by a loud crash. _Oh fuck_. You scramble to look over War's shoulder, forcing him to grab the back of your knees to keep you in his grip. "Oh."

"What?" War sounds beyond irritated.

"One of those really big guys is chasing us. I forgot about this one. I think it's called a claw demon or something equally unoriginal." You answer slowly. "It's picking up a car."

"Demons aren't the most clever." War says, stopping at the last large section of highway before the second big structure and setting you down. "Stay here and do not injure yourself further."

He spits the last word, making you flinch a bit. _There's the War I know_. You tighten your grip on your halberd pole, pressing the flat edge against the side of your face. _He's so... Him._

War slashes off one of the demons Freddy-esque hands as you think this, making you skitter back to avoid bloodshed. War is smiling. Splattered with blood, and wrestling a demon that could crush you in one hand, but _smiling._

_Oh god, I should not think that's cute._

You silently wish that Strife were here to shove you out of your affectionate haze while War finishes off the big guy.

You try very hard not to make a face as War picks you back up. "You're bloody." You whine when he sends you a confused glance.

He snorts, shaking his head.

"What?" You narrow your eyes.

"You've spent the last half a year with three of the Horseman and you complain of blood?" He asks. You think that's the longest sentence you've ever heard from him.

"In my defense, I mostly trained with those ghouls Death can summon and no one else was actively murdering." You hum.

He makes a face, and you notice his canines are unusually pointy. _Huh_. Must be a nephilim thing. "They weren't fighting?"

"Not enough to draw blood." You answer slowly, remembering his siblings literally slashed his arm off. Oh. "Did... Do they usually get into fights?" The thought makes you extremely uncomfortable, although you can't pin point why. They're Horsemen for goodness sake, you should've expected this.

"Mostly Strife, and Death asserting his leadership." War shrugs.

"Hmph." You respond lightly, deciding you'll interrogate Strife on the subject when you're reunited. You should start making a list of things to do really. The first of which will probably be "throw my arms around him."

A couple of Wicked greet you within the last structure and War sets you down to take care of them. You stretch out while he does so, trying to reason that it won't take too long to kill Tiamat. _Then_ you'll take a nice long nap.

You find yourself fantasizing of curling into the blanket that still smells like the Horsemen's realm and melting into that hazy not quite asleep but warm and content phase. A soft bed underneath you... comfy blankets hiding you from the outside...

You catch yourself before you can start thinking about your previous home (it just makes your chest ache), focusing in on following War through the building. _Does he get homesick too?_ you wonder. He must miss his siblings, at the very least. "Hey, War?"

He glances over his shoulder curiously, and you figure that's as close to a response as you'll get.

You chicken out at the last second, instead inquiring, "What's your favorite color?"

You're less than surprised when he scowls and returns to searching for the beholder's key without answering.

"I can't pick a favorite, to be perfectly honest. Although I'm partial to red, for obvious reasons, mister Red Rider." You go on conversationally while trailing him up the last flight of stairs. "And silver, of course," Grabbing your halberd off your back, you prepare for a fight. It glitters in response.

"Speaking-" You shove the nearest demon back, flinching only a tiny bit when it falls through the gaping hole in the floor. "Of which..." You swear you can hear it hit the ground several stories below you, although that's _probably_ just your imagination.

You hook the other (who by the looks of it, was trying to sneak up on War) by the neck and yank as hard as you can manage. Not pretty by any means, but the demon is definitely dead. "You deserve a name." You finish. The halberd hums beneath your palms, apparently agreeing with you.

"Most nephilim weapons have given names." War says, moving you out of the way so he can smash the chest open. You're almost too distracted by how _carefully_ he shoved you to respond. Could be just because he knows you're injured, but hey.

"New partner, new name?" You venture.

The Horseman shrugs. You make a face when he inspects the beholder key, having forgot how _creepy_ those damn things are. "Something wrong, adviser?"

You silently seethe in response to your 'title', answering, "No. Get ready though. You've got some sick maneuvers to pull off."

"What of you?" He stomps back towards the staircase, not waiting this time.

"I was sorta hoping I could hitch a ride with you, but I mean, Uriel might be persuaded to help me. She seems pretty cool aside from the whole 'out for your head' thing." You catch up with little effort, reaching out to grab his pauldron. You stop yourself at the last second, wondering when the hell this particular habit developed. "Plus, she's pretty." 

War makes one of his signature grunting noises and you roll your eyes. Typical.

You allow him silence just this one time, mutely retracing your steps through the building to the spooky beholder door. You're careful to remain in War's shadow when he plunges the key into it, and said Horseman seems awfully smug when you get splattered with blood anyway.

You pout irritably and brush past him. War follows silently, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Damn nephilim and their super-senses. "Angels." He quietly answers your silent question.

You strain to hear them, completely forgetting you're supposed to hide. Thankfully War has no problem with yanking you undercover when they fly by. Your eyes go wide when you get your first glimpse of _an actual freaking angel._

"I know what I saw." One of them says.

"He's right." A new, very familiar voice says.

War is startlingly quick to throw you over his shoulder in place of ChaosEater and slink out of sight as the second angel greets, "Uriel."

"Where?" He hisses, almost too quiet for you.

"Down. They've got a mount." You're pleased to note he's actually asking for your guidance now. He would've figured it out anyway, but its the thought that counts.

War is off like a shot, only pausing to entrust you with ChaosEater before leaping across the gap. It's an awkward angle and _jesus is it heavy_ but you manage to keep ahold of it without your free hand (the other is clutching onto War for dear life). Your own weapon is strapped across your back and relatively out of the way.

Neither of the angel's see it coming. War takes out the first with a single slash ( _just yank my fucking arm out of socket why don't you?_ ) and throws the other off with a surprisingly graceful tackle slide. He snags the second's weapon too.

You can hardly keep up with his movements, and you're dizzy by the time he steadies the mount. War only worsens this by yanking you in front of him, one arm gripping the reigns and nearly wrapped around you and the other wielding the angel's steampunk spear thing. You tilt your head back to glare at him, but that overly confident smirk is enough to make you blush.

 _Stop that. You're being ridiculous_. The more rational part of you says.

 _His eyes are brighter than usual_ , the lovesick side responds cheerfully. _How cute is that?_

"Hellguard! To arms!" Uriel orders.

This is enough to bring you back to the present and groan, "Hellguard, chill the fuck out."

Uriel visibly pauses, her eyes flickering down to the apparently rather unintrusive human perched in front of War. "A human." She says, clearly taken aback. Her golden eyes seem to look deeper than your blood smudged face, and it makes you extremely uncomfortable.

You defensively press closer to War's chest. _Don't look at me like that_.

He uses her momentary slip in attention to get a head start, flying past the first few angels without any offense. You snicker, "Sneaky."

You feel War's rumbly reply, but you can't quite make out the words. You appreciate the fact he's answering anyway, mentally applauding yourself on your "befriending War" progress.

Maybe you can make this whole mess work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapter titles are almost Exclusively bc it makes it easier to know where we are but its also fun trying to summarize


	11. Progress, Both Metaphorical And Literal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ whoever reviewed ddct on ffnet to tell ppl abt my presence on ao3,, you are so kind. thank u.

You can definitely _not_ make this work.

You let out an ungodly shriek as both you and War are thrown off the angelic mount, throwing your limbs out as if to protect yourself from the rapidly approaching ground. It's gotta be at least a three story drop, and you know your human body cannot survive that.

It would really suck to make it through that horrifically hot cave just to die now. _Try explaining that one to Strife_ , some snippy part of you thinks.

Thankfully, you're engulfed in that vaguely familiar white hot heat before you hit the ground, a protective bubble of warmth keeping all your bones intact. You're _safe._ Or at the very least, not injured by the fall.

You collapse anyway, hugging your arms to your chest and shivering violently. "Oh my god." You gasp. _I could've died just then_.

Dimly, you hear War get to his feet and the sound of Tiamat and the mount fighting. You barely stir as he approaches, only glancing up when he tilts your chin up with one clawed hand. "Advisor."

"War." You answer shakily.

His lips quirk ever so slightly, just enough to distract you. "You mentioned Vulgrim having a shop here?"

You have to work to remember where he is exactly, although that's probably a side effect of shock rather than your general forgetfulness. "On the right in a little alcove. There's a chest of the other side but we need the-" Your hand curls into a fist, struggling to remember the actual name of the weapon. "Crystal smasher thing." You finally settle on.

War nods, his gaze flickering over to said alcove before pulling you onto your feet by the wrist. He keeps your wrist too, not letting go even when you make it clear you can in fact ~~limp~~  walk on your own.

The pain in your injured side is coming back with a vengeance, and your ribs are starting to feel uncomfortably hot. Not a good sign, you know. You try not to ignore it for the time being.

"You never fail to make a marvelous entrance." Vulgrim greets with a laugh. "And your little human survived too, although they're a little banged up." He holds out your scroll and War releases your arm.

"Finally." You say, frowning.

"Have you got anything for old Vulgrim then, Horseman?" The demon somehow manages to make it sound welcoming rather than flat out creepy, and for that you must applaud him. Not as creepy as he could have been.

You turn back to your letter with a small smile, very casually wandering a few steps away before opening it. Death's loopy calligraphy greets you:

_The Watcher wants to gain an edge in a situation where you hold power. It's probably been informed of your relationship with Strife by its siblings, so it doesn't have any actual blackmail material aside from gossip. I wouldn't be surprised if its siblings have a betting pool on the subject._

_You were thrown across a gap. Truly amazing. I'm sure Fury would thoroughly enjoy your aerobatic skills._

_How many times can you start a sentence with 'and' in the same letter? English is not anywhere near my native language and I know that's wrong. That is irritating._

_Vulgrim not noticing a potential costumer? Samael overlooking you does not surprise me, keeping in mind his arrogance. I do not believe your immunity is part of your leash though. It may be amplified by the Council's influence, but it is not the cause. We will have to look into that later. You are fully human, or so we assumed._

There's a noticeable blank space for several lines and then a teeny tiny sign off -Death and an even smaller rendition of a skull. Or maybe it's supposed to be his mask?

Either way it has you grinning like a fool and nearly squealing with how adorable it is. _Death_. You got Death to draw a little skull. If this isn't the pinnacle of your social interactions you don't know what is.

"Something good?" Vulgrim guffaws.

"Big brother Death is too adorable, oh my god." You laugh, all too pleased with yourself. "I drew little hearts last time because he said something mushy, you know, and he drew a little skull, this is the best thing ever." You _know_ you're being childish, but that doesn't reign in your enthusiasm in the slightest. Everyone thinks you're childish anyway, given that they're centuries old. A human adult can't compare to a demon or a nephilim or... whatever the Watcher is.  

Vulgrim is in stitches by the time you're done talking, while War appears honestly concerned for both you and Death. He stares at you with his eyebrows pulled together like you're some kind of trig problem.

"Sorry. This is just great." You add, nearly bouncing with excitement. Your eyes flicker to Vulgrim, "And don't you _dare_ tell him I just said he's adorable. If he doesn't kill me, I'd die of embarrassment."

"Of course." Vulgrim nods, clearly amused. "I can't have you dead. Now, War, you were thinking of buying this?"

War turns his attention back to Vulgrim after a pause, in which you pull out your reply journal and scrawl with little eloquence:

_Sorry if this is messy, we're about to take on the first of the Chosen. Tiamat, in case you're up-to-date with that sort of thing. She's supposedly a bat queen, although she exhibits no typical bat traits so I think she's a fraud. Bats don't have tiddies, Death!! That's just not how it works!_

_Anyways. You know I actually liked the Watcher as character. It's quite the challenge to not wish it dead though. Which is definitely not a hint. At all._

_Thanks. It was almost as impressive as your ability to sound sarcastic even in writing._

_And yet I will continue to begin my sentences with 'and'. What are you gonna do about it, Death? Fight me?_

_I'm kidding. Don't actually take that as a challenge, I am WEAK._

_Speaking of which, I think I might've cracked a rib or two. Fight club participants used that summoning thing and whatever is protecting me from demonic bs threw me against the damn wall. And then War scolded me. I haven't updated him._

You sign off with a few actually bat like creatures and more hearts for good measure, handing it off to Vulgrim when War decides its time to start.

"Right." You say, nodding determinately. We're gonna be fine. This is just the first Chosen, you finished this in less than an hour the first time. You white knuckle your halberd.

War gives you a strange look, apparently sensing your trepidation. "Should you be warning me of something?"

"No, I'm just a coward." You assure him. "Although, I should've thought to bring an umbrella. It's lookin like rain, and I don't think I can follow you down bellow. Too much lava, I'm sure you understand." You shudder.

War snorts, but doesn't otherwise argue with that.

You marvel at the architecture while he takes care of the last of the outside bats, now smiling. In game, the cathedral was pretty, care obviously put into the layout. _Here_ , the cathedral is... breathtaking. A sprawling, veritable castle despite its age and the abuse its clearly suffered. Carefully cut stone makes up the grand majority of the walls you can see, and bits of stained glass still remain around the edges of the windows. 

Was this a _church_ church? Did families comes here to worship and have coffee and gossip? Did children sing nonsense during the hymns and hide behind their parent's legs? Did people get _married_ here? 

"Advisor?" 

_Apparently,_ a pretty view can make you homesick. "This place would've so pretty. Before the demons, of course."

He pauses. "...you sound reminiscent."

"I am. I miss my home." You shrug. "But what's done is done, you know? And now, I've got an important job to do. It just sorta sucks that I'm seeing all these awesome places like... _Postmortem though_. I always wanted to travel but..." You make a face.

War shakes his head, repeating, "Postmortem?"

"Do you have a better word?" You huff, finding it quite the challenge to make it up even the gentle incline of the steps. _Crybaby_. You bite the inside of your cheek and try to suck it up.

War is thankfully a few feet ahead of you and therefore does not see the horrible face you're making. Kicking open the door, he answers, "Decrepit?"

"That sorta implies it's from natural causes though." You hum, happy he's playing along. Although perhaps playing isn't the best word.

Before War can think of a better word, Shadow puts an end to your conversation, "Over here!" It seems awfully annoyed for someone who doesn't actually do anything. "You're supposed to be helping, not distracting him." It scolds you.

You ignore it in favor of asking War, "Can I hold that?"

The Horseman simply stares at you, holding the glowy blue sword in his off hand.

"I like weapons, okay?" You pout. _Come on, I just wanna hold it. My halberd won't mind._

He lips tilt up, and you swear your heart stops. "Fine." He concedes, making a show of holding the sword out for you.

"Yesss!" You let out a rather birdlike squeak, extremely pleased he let you have it. It's much to heavy for you to wield properly, but damn does it feel cool.

"Careful not to break it, Glitch." Shadow taunts.

You make an impressed noise in your throat, deciding it's not worth actual words. You cannot believe its actually gonna call you Glitch.

You will admit you're relieved when it fades back into War's gauntlet, although you realize it's ridiculous to think that actually makes a difference. Its job description is literally to _watch_. Getting alone time is an impossibility at this point.

You're less than pleased to have to return your newly acquired sword though ( _what kind of statue needs a fucking sword,_ you wonder bitterly) and the grinding noise the door makes causes you to cringe.

Not as much as the screeching noise the mount makes though. You latch onto War's pauldron as casually as possible, your free hand gripping your halberd. "Poor thing." You say, not sure War can hear you over the screams.

He can. "It is buying us time." War responds, making no movement to push you away. He does however look at your side again, and you're certain he's aware you lied to him about being 'fine'. At least he most _certainly_ does not have X-ray vision. You asked Strife when he made a joke about it once. 

"So... Who designed this place? We're in a church for gods sake. 'Lets just throw in an arguably clever sword puzzle, just to fuck with people'." You ask, looking around.

War doesn't respond, and you continue to question the logic, or lack-thereof, of the architects while he moves to throw several of the bats into the lava river in the middle of the room. You... don't remember that being a thing in game, but you chalk it the dev's not wanting to make an entirely new animation just to make War seem more badass.

(It's weird, being in a game but _not quite_. In a way it makes you feel powerless. Even little things like that mean your futuresight isn't exact. You're not all knowing, and that leaves you and War rather vulnerable.)  

Brushing it off, you make your way over to the next door, and very pointedly open it like a normal person. War looks downright confused when he meets you in the courtyard, although it quickly morphs into annoyance when the demons show up.

You're very pleased to note the two of you have sort of got a pattern now. War knows you've got his back as long as he keeps the demons focus and you know his style well enough to not get slashed.

"Some warning would have been nice." War says when they're all dead.

You're leaning heavily against your halberd, simply glaring at him. "What? You want a heads up every time demons want you dead? You know that's like... Constant, right?"

He sighs, glancing around irritably rather than pick a fight with you.

"The statue." You say, moving to stand over the cracked area of the floor. "You've gotta push the statue so you can get down below and I'll just... Hang out."

_Damn my weak human body_.

"Just go through that door and you'll figure the rest out, I'm sure. Remember to get the chest too. It's got souls or something." You settle down on the other side of the courtyard, taking shelter from the steadying increasing rain.

War makes a displeased noise and stomps away. Rolling your eyes ( _and I'm the childish one?_ ), you pull out your notebook and begin mapping out your game plan.

You try to remember any and everything from War's game and then put it into a timeline. You mark things you can change with little stars, although there's not many of them. The word 'Ruin' with hearts is circled with hearts.

Honestly you cannot wait to free him. Poor horse has been through a lot with his partner gone. Granted, so has his partner. You... You don't want to nor _can_ you imagine what that would be like. You've never had a constant in your life like the Riders and their horses. You've never had someone like that _to_ lose. 

(but you had a whole life, a whole world before this mess, and maybe, maybe that's the same kind of feeling? Because that is. It's bad. It's bad in a way you can't quite articulate) 

But for this mission/quest/thing. The only things you, personally, 100% have to worry about are A) staying alive and B) in the case that you do make it to the end, your belt.

Will the Council still have power over you after this is all over?

The idea makes you very uncomfortable, but you don't have a definitive answer and its very possible that the Council will know of your betrayal if you try to ask either War or Death. Death would definitely know how to break it, right? He knows all about weird magic.

You're debating trying to get a letter to Death without Shadow learning of it when War kicks down the statue and you practically feel your soul leave your body in fright.

"War!" You hiss, bringing your hand over your chest.

It's hard to see from this distance, but you swear he smirks. "Now who needs a warning?"

_Oh, I am going to strangle you_. You grind your teeth together as he descends the newly created hole in the ground.

Sighing, you turn your attention back to the plan and begin fine tuning your work. You plan on asking the Blackhammer for a pair of claws in order for you to avoid touching any more demonic growth (or equally disgusting substances) but you need to figure out whether or not that means you should help War with his half of the angels. Would he respect a human who's not afraid to grapple with angels, or would he assume its cheating because you're on the same side as War?

That also brings up the _can I actually help War with the Griever?_ situation, because you cannot hold your breath as long as a Horseman. They hardly need to breath at all. Their heartbeats are much slower than humans too, and Strife was _extremely_ confused the first time he noticed yours, his head on your chest during movie night. Fury, on the other hand, immediately assumed you were dying. Your heart was going a bit faster than usual though, given that you were in the middle of training.

You smile at the memory, nearly writing 'Fury' down in your notebook. It wouldn't really fit in with " _Ask Ulthane for claws, maybe don't follow war into the sewer/train place, and talk to Vulgrim about your belt_."

You continue to try and come up with solutions while War searches for the beholder's key that will open up the next fight club.

You know he's at least halfway through when two demons appear, probably planning on 'guarding' the gate ( _as if two demons could stop War_ ). You abandon your notebook on the ground and take care of them with your trusty halberd. It sparkles as you clean off their gross demon blood and silently bemoan War's absence. He would've killed them in a tenth of the time you took.

You take it as a sign the universes agrees when War jumps out not a minute later, the key in his hand.

"Have fun?"

"No." He answers simply, heading for the door. You stuff your notebook back into your pack and follow soon after. He raises an eyebrow when he sees your blood spattered state, stopping mid-motion.

"Demons." You shrug, waving towards the door.

His expression remains confused even as he turns back to shank the Beholder.

_Did he not think me capable of killing only two demons?_ You make an effort not to take it personally but... _Wow. Rude._

You once again decide to wait outside for War, your resolve only strengthened when you notice the lava rivers. "It's a mini-boss, nothing big. You can handle it." You tell him.

War's eyes narrow dangerously before you're being scooped up in his arms.

"Hey-"

"You're fine." He huffs.

"Well, yeah, but my appearance has nothing to do with my hardiness." You shoot back, trying not to look terrified as he jumps over the first lava trap.

He makes that face you know is his 'I have no idea what you just said' expression.

"Fine is slang for attractive, man, you really are out of the loop. Even Strife knows that one." You raise your eyebrows.

"Strife-" He makes the second jump before finishing, "Spends more time with humans than the others."

You can actually _feel_ Shadow melt out of the gauntlet to inform you, "Yesss, he doesn't play well with his fellow Horseman."

War sets your shuddering self down when the bigger demon appears, and while they battle it out you continue your conversation with Shadow. "I know. I assumed that's why he took so quickly to me."

"You were his last resort?" The Watcher taunts, obviously trying to get a rise out of you.

"Of course, don't you know you save the best for last?" You retort. "Like dessert."

It makes a gross growly noise, circling you. "What hubris."

"Hey, now," You start, pouting. Your argument is cut off by a piece of armor flying toward you. Your arms fly up to cover your face, but it goes flying past your shoulder. Thankfully.

"Hey, what the fuck, dude!?" You demand, glaring at said demon.

War presses his lips together like he's trying not to laugh, using the demon's distraction to land the finishing blow. You once again shield your face, hissing in sympathy. It's really gotta suck to be bisected like that.

War yanks the sword out, pausing a few seconds before holding it out for you.

You squeak with excitement. "Oh, thank you!" You take the offered sword. You're too busy swinging it to notice his small grin. "I really love weapons."

You do notice War is a little less demanding than usual when he says its time to proceed, but his claws are as harsh as ever when he scoops you up. You loathe to admit you like it.

"Where do you recommend?" He asks when you're back in the courtyard.

"Back into the main room, across the hall. There's another courtyard, some puzzles, and then Tiamat." You hum, clutching the sword tightly in your hands.

War doesn't respond, and you follow him out into the main room again. The heat hits you like a tidal wave, starkly contrasting the cold rain. Making your way the next angel, you hand them the sword with a pout.

"I'll miss you." You tell it dramatically. Your own weapon hums with displeasure. Pulling it off your back, you press your cheek to the flat edge. Your reassurances that you love the halberd more than any other weapon are cut off by the Angelic Mount's and Tiamat's screeching.

"Ugh." You cringe, focusing on War rather than the grappling pair. "God, I hate Tiamat."


	12. Tiamat

War ignores your complaints as you continue, only listening when you make suggestions like "use the bomb" and "we're about to be mugged".

He gives you A Look when the demons appear too, despite the fact you did warn him this time, which you want to chalk up as the usual War irritability. But it still sorta hurts your feelings. 

Thankfully, if Death taught you anything, its transmuting emotional turmoil into unfettered battlefield aggression. He takes out the big guy while you dance around the lesser demons and jab at them, muttering curses under your breath.

 _Demons are so annoying,_ you think, nearly folding in on yourself by the time they're all gone. It seems your ribs do not appreciate the stress you're putting them under. You lean heavily against your halberd and try to focus on your breathing.

"Advisor." War growls, moving to your side.

You get that he's trying to be nice, but that _tone_ just rubs you the wrong way. You find yourself angrier than expected, now glaring at the Horseman. "It's fine!" You snap. "I sorta hurt myself earlier, but like I said, I'm fine."

His sneer is much scarier than anything you can dish out, but you try to hold your ground nonetheless. "Fine."

You keep yourself defiant even when he turns away, trying your damnedest to ignore the horrible feeling in your stomach and the prickling behind your eyes. _I am_ not _crying. It's just stress_ , you remind yourself. Death warned you the first few months were gonna be hard.

It's definitely not because your _favorite_ probably wants to murder you now.

You take a deep breath and turn on your heel, "I'm gonna go see if Vulgrim will appear without you there! I'm sure you can handle the puzzles and the lava."

War makes no effort to stop you, and you try not to take it as a personal offense. It's not like you wanted him to stop you. That would just make this situation even shittier than it already is, you _know_ that logically and yet... Your heart disagrees.

"Ugh." You growl, stomping back through the cathedral. Only one bat tries to stop you, which you quickly shoot down. You don't even bother to kill it (which you regret not a second later) as you slam the door behind you.

Vulgrim is not waiting when you arrive, and five minutes of pacing around his circle is completely fruitless. It's for the best though, as you scrub at your eyes the entire time. Hopefully you can blame the rain for your disheveled appearance.

You're just really fucking homesick for your world and for the other Horseman and for a sense of _normalcy,_ is the problem. And Death warned you it would be hard. He explained that this lifestyle isn't for everyone and it's without a doubt not for humans, but its your responsibility now.

You just hate that you're acting exactly like he said you would when it gets too much, having mood swings and lashing out and crying, for gods sake. You feel horrible about it too, knowing that it's no ones fault. Aside from maybe the Council's. _Fucking Charred Council._

You collapse onto the cracked pavement, pulling your legs up under your chin. _What else did Death say? How to calm down?_

'Distract yourself. Concentrate on concretes, not variables.' You pretend you can hear him coaching you, although the specifics are hard to remember now. You should've paid more attention, but Strife and Fury made it seem as if he were being overly cautious.

Okay, distract yourself. You think, trying to find something that could hold your interest.

 _Let's start with... Death? Why does he know all this stuff anyway_? It is canon that Death was the only one that felt remorse for their genocide, and you know for a fact he isn't as icy as he seems. Maybe he's been in the same position as you, although you can't picture Death looking half as pitiful as you're certain you do right now.

...It's sort of comforting to think though. The great Death, eldest of the Horseman, having the same kind of trouble you're experiencing. If such a strong person can be... like this, then maybe you're not really _weak._

You hang onto that until you calm down a bit more, finally managing to get to your feet and stretch out. Your shoulder cracks when you do so, and your ribs don't seem to be much better.

Knowing this might be the only time you'll get to look it over without War hanging over your shoulder, you move to the complete other side of the cathedral and carefully take off your shirt.

"Holy fuck." You breathe, poking at the now blue-ish skin. God, do you hope it isn't as bad as it looks. You very carefully feel the potentially broken ribs, making certain they're not moving or something equally horrifying. "Oh, thank god." You sigh in relief when you find nothing. It is rather painful though.

Now content your ribs are either bruised or cracked, you turn your attention to your arm/hand, which is a beautiful purplish blue color at the moment. You check out the superficial abrasions for signs of infection (none, thankfully) before deciding you're in the clear and slipping the same shirt back on.

Setting your halberd down, you root around in your backpack a bit before you find the bottle of pain relievers and down a few. You know better than to use an ace bandage or something for your ribs, and your arm is only severely bruised. You'll survive.

You pick your weapon back up with a sigh and try to prepare yourself for seeing War again. He's probably already killed the jailer by now, what with how much time you've wasted freaking the fuck out.

You almost regret leaving him alone so much, but you reason there's plenty of opportunities for you to do reckless shit in the future. And it's not like there's a shortage of reckless things to do in this world. For example, leaning over a river of lava and contemplating your apparent heat resistance. Was that just because it was the Council's magic? Or are you immune to all lava?

You decide not to risk it at the last second, darting out to the courtyard where you left War.

The boss... Seal is still up, so you figure it hasn't been too long since you were separated, but you know yourself well enough not to try and venture into the deeper parts of the castle all by yourself. Goodness knows where you would end up, what with your horrible sense of direction.

So you settle down again, and begin scrawling out another letter to Death that isn't so much as a reply or update as it is just you venting. He'd understand. You toss it in the lava after you finish it anyways. 

It feels like hours before you feel the cathedral shift under your feet, probably War doing something particularly destructive. You take it as a good sign though and turn back to your letter.

It's only a short time after that (three paragraphs and a doodle of Ruin) that War finally returns, the rumbling from the elevator giving you more than enough forewarning to put your stuff away.

War seems unsurprised when he sees you, criss cross apple sauce on the floor in front of Tiamat's door and soaked to the bone, but his scowl is still in place.

"Dramatic." You chirp.

Rather than answer, he glides past you and shoves the door open. Shadow seeps out while you hastily ascend the steps, giggling, "You've angered him, Glitch."

"Yeah, fuck you too, I got it." You hiss.

"Such language!" It seems rather proud of itself for stirring up such a strong reaction. "You hearing this, dog?" It asks War. The horseman simply shoves it off and continues up the stairs.

You roll your eyes. "Can you say something useful or is that too much to ask at this point?" _Sick burn_ , you congratulate yourself silently. It only sweetens it when Shadow makes that hissing noise and leaves the two of you alone again.

'Alone again' isn't nearly as nice as it sounds though, considering its raining cats and guts (thanks for that, Tiamat), there's blood all over the fucking place, and it looks like this entire structure is going to collapse at any second.

Not to mention how horribly creaky Tiamat's voice is. "Have the Council reduced the Horseman to common assassins?"

She slinks down from her roost, and you're abruptly aware of how _big_ this creature is. You shrink behind War as she continues, "Or has Samael bought or loyalty? Because if you are for sale, Rider... Perhaps we can strike a deal."

"You won't like my terms." War responds, completely fearless. _Goodness gracious_. You press a hand to your cheek.

She stops directly in front of the two of you, and it still takes her a moment to register your presence. War draws ChaosEater as she circles around to look at you properly. "And who is this? A human pet?"

You grimace, "Not quite."

"Then you're his keeper? Can I entice you, little one?" She laughs, the sound sending shivers down your spine. You never really noticed how scary a giant bat was in game, but one of her claws is probably the same size as your arm and if that's not intimidating, you don't know what is. 

"What? No." You stutter, scrambling farther away from her.

She heaves a sigh, as if she had actually hoped you'd agree or something. "This will not end well, for either of you." Taking to the sky, she becomes marginally less frightening.

"The bombs." You say to War, still too shaken up to manage a complete sentence.

He nods, giving you the strangest look before turning away. "Stay out of her sight."

 _Was that... Concern?_ You ask yourself, very carefully making your way over to the other side of the battlefield. You wonder if this is really the time to be trying to figure out whether or not War actually cares for you or not, but then you remember there's rarely a time you're not being actively hunted down. Perks of hanging out with doomsday Horseman.

You skirt around the edges as they begin the actual battle, dodging the fireballs she spits out and again questioning her status as 'bat queen'. Bats don't use pyromancy (or whatever the hell you'd call this). Although admittedly, there's not really a way to use echo location in battle, unless you bend the rules and allow her to stun you or something.

Huh.

You find yourself next to one of the many bombs, and you're completely unable to keep yourself from poking at it. _It's not active_ , you remind yourself, running your finger tips over the strangely smooth spines covering it. Demons have some weird technology.

It is pretty light though, you notice. You can easily hold it in one hand, despite the fact it's bigger than your head. You use the spines as grips.

"Are you sure you should be handling that?" A voice suddenly hisses.

You go rigid, relaxing only when you recognize the fingers now caressing your injured shoulder mock affectionately. "Ugh."

Shadow snickers, "What did you do without us, Advisor?"

"Sobbed." You answer with a roll of your eyes. "I just missed your creepy gaze so much, I was beside myself. Good thing brother Death responded to my letter, right?" You're lying through your teeth at this point, just testing its reaction.

This makes it pause, all its eyes narrowing. "You're playing a dangerous game."

 _Well, you're not wrong_. "How so?" You hum, returning your gaze to the bomb as if Shadow is not worth your undivided attention.

This seems to seriously annoy it, and all the way across the roof War freezes. In the middle of battle. Your eyes go wide. There's no doubt in your mind that Shadow is using its magic. "Shadow."

It just laughs, while you act _entirely_ without thought and run to War. Tiamat is further from War than you are, flying above the battlefield, but this is an opening. If you were in her place, you'd take it. 

And so does she.

You bring your halberd up to block Tiamat's claws. It doesn't work very well, but it's better than letting War take the hit head on. Her talons get caught on the pole of your weapon, only her longest claws grazing your waist.

But _War is safe and that's all that matters, we just have to protect him._ Your light seems to echo that thought and you're enveloped in a bright white glow that makes the bat queen screech in pain.

It's all in crystal clear bullet time, Tiamat trying to pull away, Shadow laughing, and smell the burning flesh. But most importantly, you can _feel_ the light this time, as if it's a part of yourself. With the tiniest movement, Tiamat loses the hand she struck you with.

She clambers backwards with a noise that makes your ears ring, and War is yanking you behind him not a second later but _holy shit_.

Thrumming with adrenaline, you smile.

You very carefully make your way back to a reasonably safe place as War finishes the fight, which is apparently much easier now that she's missing a hand. She does spit a few more fireballs though, one of which is aimed for you rather than War. You just barely manage to escape and resist the urge to flip her off. Strife would've be disappointed.

Speaking of Strife, you have to wonder what he'll do when he sees your scars... Things are not looking well for War.

Things are also not looking well for this outfit. You shield yourself best you can when War makes it rain _fucking demon blood_ and tosses her wings. One gets uncomfortably close to yourself, but you're not certain you want to move quite yet.

"Do it! Tear out her heart while she still lives, I want to hear her scream!" The Watcher orders, more excited than you've ever heard it.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

"I am.. One of the Chosen... I can grant... Your every wish." Tiamat promises.

You never really thought about how hard it is to hear someone plead for their life, even if they are a horrible, murderous creature of the abyss. You want to be happy, because this is a step towards the end and goodness knows she deserves atonement, but...

All you feel is sad and injured.

You block out the rest of the conversation, sitting down as you did earlier with your knees brought to your chest. Your halberd hums, and although you can't concentrate enough to figure out what it's trying to say, you find it comforting.

War scoops you up without hesitation this time, muttering something you don't quite catch.

You tilt your head up, "What?"

"Yellow." He states, moving to the edge of the battlefield. You don't even question what he's looking for at this point.

"Yellow." You mimic, nodding. You have absolutely _no idea_ what he means by this, but hell if you're going to risk irritating him now that he's talking to you again.

War falls silent again, apparently having found the location he wanted. You make a quiet noise of annoyance when he swings you over his shoulder.

You make an even louder noise when he _jumps off the roof._

Granted he immediately sinks his claws into the stone and calmly repels down the wall, but you still think there are better ways to get back to ground level.

 _Cooler ways? Probably not_.

You're shivering something frightful by the time you hit the ground, and you're not sure if War is completely to blame. He sets you down with surprising care, but grinds out with surprising ire, "You're injured."

"Ye-yeah." You pluck at your shirt. You would've expected two long cuts through it, but her claws seemed to have dragged unevenly, leaving the bottom half in tatters. "I've got bandages in my backpack. You can chat with Vulgrim while I do that, maybe? Or-"

He cuts you off, "Let me do it."

You blink. "What?"

You don't really expect an answer, and he doesn't give one. You carefully pull off your backpack and grab the med-kit. Fury was _insistent_ that you have every sort of antibiotic the Watcher's could get their hands on (most of which are otherworldly and therefore completely foreign to you), plus the usual things.

War takes the box from you with a grunt, his eyes narrowed. "Who made this?"

You watch him pick through the options and select a gross blueish colored bottle. He soaks a cloth with it while you answer, "Packed it, you mean? Fury and me. I don't know half of what's-"

War presses the cloth against the larger of your cuts, making you grind your teeth to keep from crying out. "Ow!" You hiss.

He gives you a look that you easily translate to "shut up."

You roll your eyes in reply, allowing him to continue. Who would've thought War would know how to fix up a wound? Well... _actually_ , that makes a lot of sense. You just never really thought about it before.

You purse your lips as you mule over this new information. Huh.

You still feel like hell when he finishes wrapping you all up in gauze, and you reason your shivers are from blood loose rather than his claws. Because there's no way you're still having such a reaction.

No.

He scoops you back up afterwards, growling about you over exerting yourself or something equally logical. You don't have the energy to fight him. Even if your pride is taking a major hit.

"What now?" He asks, glaring out at the lava.

"Wait for it." You murmur.

"Tragic... Without your feathered friend, how will you escape this prison of rock?" Vulgrim glides over, right on time.

You can practically feel War's irritation spike. "I'll find a way." He answers shortly.

"You have certainly proved yourself... Resourceful." Vulgrim hums, looking at you pointedly. You almost ask him if he wants to fight or something, but given the shape you're in...

War begins to walk away, Vulgrim circling like he always does, "Perhaps I can offer a quicker way?"

"Speak plainly, demon." War orders.

You all but phase into War's chest as Vulgrim draws nearer. "Serpent Holes... Ancient paths that worm their way beneath the husk of this dead world... And beyond. I use them to get around... And for a price, so can you."

"Dead?" You repeat angrily. _This world is not dead. I am still here, and I am not dead._

"What do you want... Vulgrim?" War says his name like a personal favor.

Vulgrim clicks his fingers together, "A trifle really... The Chosen's Heart. I felt its power the moment you stepped from that tower."

"Actually we did a sick repel down the side." You correct quietly, trying to find a place you can lay your head on his shoulder. And here you thought Strife's armor was bad. You do like that he can hold you up with only one arm though. "And you know we've got a deal."

Vulgrim casts his beseeching gaze to you. "You wound me, human. I would never come between you and your friend Samael. No, I only wish to look at the heart. One glance... And our bargain is sealed."

War holds out that dreadful heart, and you shift as far away as you can without falling out of his hold. It feels wicked. And not the 'bro that was a gnarly trick' kind of wicked. More like 'we need to call a priest'.

Vulgrim seems to think its the exact opposite, leaning closer and closer until War makes it disappear again. Vulgrim growls at that, but thankfully backs off. "Samael will be pleased... The serpent holes are yours, Horseman. Seek me out when you wish to use them."

"Hey, War?" You ask as Vulgrim floats back to his shop. "You think I'll actually get to see the others again? I mean because its only the first Chosen and I'm... Sorta messed up."

You simply sigh when he doesn't answer, closing your eyes.

"Not if you continue to act recklessly. If you simply advise... I believe you have a chance." War says, beginning to walk again.

Your eyes fly open. "Really?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun facts: they missed a chest in the beginning bc the human was distracted/just plain forgot   
> -Death knows he should destroy the letters he gets but he likes them too much.   
> -War wouldve survived that hit p easily, and the Watcher know it. it did not at all expect the human to run out and protect him   
> -the human asked War's favorite color two? three chapters ago? its yellow   
> -these chapters feature the human taking Quite the beating but i wanna assure yall that's not a main theme. they get better at fighting together and protecting one another


	13. An Attempt Was Made

"I trust she suffered?" Samael says right off the bat, not even bothering with a greeting. _He's a demon, what did you expect?_

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and instead curl farther into yourself. War hardly seems to notice. Shadow, of course, is too busy complaining, "Not nearly enough."

War thankfully uses the hand not keeping you in his grip to gift Sameal with that disgusting heart. If this is only the first of the Chosen, you can't imagine what kind of aura Samael will have when he's fully charged.

You don't really _want_ to imagine it, either.

"The second Chosen, The Griever, moves in the tunnels beneath this place. But first, there is an... Obstacle that must be removed. Ulthane. One of the Old Ones." Sameal leans closer, his eyes narrowing when he takes in your appearance.

War's face hardens in return. "You did not mention this before."

"Changing the deal already, Samael?" The Watcher asks accusingly.

Samael does not take kindly to that, it seems. "Be silent, filth. My business is with the Horseman."

You lift your head up just to see the demon backhand it, and you feel... _amused_ , but also disgusted by the casual violence. Is it _wrong_ you sorta feel like Watcher deserves it? After its commentary about your being _weak? Whose the weak one now?_

You make no noise, but you're certain War can feel you tremble in effort not to laugh. "It doesn't matter anyway. Ulthane is pretty much harmless after you get in his good graces." You say, ignoring the way your voice creaks. You've gotta rest before even thinking about the next chosen.

Samael turns his attention back to you with a growl, agreeing, "Ulthane is no ally of the Destroyer. But you won't find the Griever without confronting the Black Hammer, and that will possess a strength you don't have... Yet."

You make a motion for War to set you down at that, momentarily distracting him from wishing ill will upon Samael. He goes back to scowling as soon as you're on stable ground.

Samael yanks Shadow off the ground with bright red magic, making it yelp in pain. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Samael!?" It demands.

"Tell him, Watcher. How you stifle the Horseman's true power in order to keep him on the Council's leash." Samael growls, decisively dropping it. You almost feel bad for the poor thing. "War, destroy this parasite."

"You so much as blink at me and the Council will end you! Both of you! I'm protected!" It threatens, pointing wildly.

Okay, _yeah_ , you don't feel too bad anymore.

"Not in here." Samael points out, turning to War. "You are War. Rider of the Red Horse! Not some puppet on this pathetic creatures strings!"

"War, I will make you suffer!" Shadow continues to make void threats. You're sort of surprised it doesn't include you in said threats, to be honest. You are a pretty easy target though.

You carefully make your way over to Shadow as Samael continues his pep talk about anger, remaining a few feet away and simply waiting.

War does not disappoint. You have to look away even though you know he's simply injuring the Watcher. Not killing it, thankfully. War stomps away ( _what a drama queen_ ) while you hold out your hand for the Watcher. "Come on. Get up." You prompt, keeping your face neutral. Admittedly, Samael's laughter makes that pretty hard to do.

It hesitates for a few long moments before allowing you to help it up and hissing, "What was that!?"

"The Horseman may be broken but there is still power within him. For a moment, I saw one who would stand alone against the Destroyer's army." Samael seems pretty content with this line, but you stop him before he sinks back into his prison.

 _It's now or never_ , you figure. "Hey! Do you know about the Hellguard?" You ask.

He pauses, tilting his head curiously. "What of it?"

You glance back to War and smile encouragingly, "You should talk to Vulgrim! I can meet you back at that house I rested in, yeah?"

His eyes narrow. "I suppose. Do not take keep me waiting."

You turn back to Samael with a grin, "Sorry. I don't want the Watcher eavesdropping."

"You believe that sending your protecter away is a good idea then, human?" He leans closer, very obviously trying to intimidate you. As if you haven't just vaporized Tiamat's hand or something.

 _Please_. "So, I've got two questions! One of which I also plan on asking Death, but I don't want him to worry and potentially fuck up the timeline." You say.

Samael raises his eyebrows _(well, if they can even be called eyebrows_ ), "Go on."

"First, and this one I'm not especially worried about but it would be nice to avoid, is there any way aside from murdering one another, to... Get rid of the Death Oath?" You ask, grimacing as you picture War's death.

Samael, for once, seems genuinely surprised. "Nex Sacramentum cannot be broken without dire consequences. Not even the Council would risk that... What have you gotten yourself into, human?"

"Not me. The Hellguard and their grudge against War for supposedly aiding the demons. I'll give you one guess which of them is just zealous enough to try and pick a fight with the youngest Horseman." You trace the designs in your halberd anxiously.

"Uriel." The demon snorts. "The best way to avoid either of them dying would be not allowing her to challenge him, you realize."

"Well, yeah, but-" You stop, "And how do you know it hasn't happened yet?"

He smirks. "You underestimate me."

You decide to let that one slide. "Second question, theoretically, when you're totally powered up, could you break this?" You make a motion towards your 'leash', careful not to state it explicitly. You're pretty sure it'd have a problem with 'can you break this damn chain'.

"And why would you want that?" He hmphs, moving closer to inspect it anyway.

You pause to think over your next words. How much do we actually want to tell him? "War... lives up to his name and I, for one, don't wanna be on the losing side. The Horseman are both my best bet to survive, and the ones I'd like to be with when this whole mess is done."

"Sentimental and reasonable." He chuckles. You're not quite sure if it's a compliment, but you'll take it as such anyway. "Unfortunately, I do not believe I could break this. It seems the Council knows where your loyalties lie."

You nod. "Of course they do. Could an angel?"

He shifts farther away. "Not any I know of. It seems to be similar to the seals that bind the Horseman. But _weaker_."

"Oh. Oh, I know _exactly_ how to break those." You smile excitedly, biting down on your lip. "Awesome. Thanks, then!" You turn on your heel and head for your resting place.

That is, until Samael yanks you back. "You thought I would answer your questions for nothing?" He asks, more amused than annoyed.

"Well, I was hoping." You sigh, pointedly wriggling your shoulder. He just digs his claws in harder. You find that you only feel disgust when it Samael treating you this way. "What do you want answered in exchange?"

"What do you know of Hell?" He asks.

If not for Fury insisting on training your face to remain neutral, you would've flinched. _Fuck_ _. Okay, okay, gotta distract him_. "Do you want to know about Hell, or do you want to know about Lilith?" You quickly ask. People's love lives are usually a pretty safe bet for distractions. Right? 

There's a pause and you wonder if he's going to murder you here and now. That would definitely suck.

He laughs, the throaty sound making you anything but comfortable. "Fine. What has Lilith been doing, according to your sight?"

"I'm not a Seer, I just... Whatever. Luci ain't happy with her, what with her plans falling apart at the seams. She's still trying to proposition big brother Death too, which could contribute to that." You state, trying your best to remember what you learned off the wiki. You _really_ should've finished Darksiders 2.

"What plans?" Samael's eyes narrow.

You make a wide motion to the devastation surrounding his prison. "Hello? Last human alive? You think Abaddon just became the Destroyer? Please, Samael, we both know you're brighter than that." Casually complimenting him seems like a solid plan to not get killed. Especially when you're talking about his ex.

He releases your shoulder to move in front of you and force you to meet his gaze. "Most believe Abaddon was vanquished by Straga."

"Who do you think is the Destroyer then? You don't think he's too 'pure' like Uriel, right?" You huff incredulously. " _Our great leader would never be seduced by Lilith! How dare you even suggest it!_ To be honest, I sorta feel bad. They've all placed him on this pedestal and it must be terrible to realize that's not how it actually works."

"Just wretched." Sameal agrees with a smirk. _Oh, yeah. He doesn't really like angels._

"So... That enough to let me go take a nap or what?" You ask curiously, glancing at the road out.

"Is that all you know?" He responds, eyes narrowing.

"Pretty much. I think she steals something? I can't really remember the specifics. Death needs a... void walker, possibly? ...Phasewalker? That's what it is! Yeah. He needs that and Lilith is like, _son_. Which Death vehemently denies, of course."

"Of course." Samael parrots mockingly. "You may leave."

You quickly depart, moving as quickly as your damaged body will allow. "See ya!"

* * *

You try to cling onto sleep, extremely thankful you weren't thrown into a mess of nightmares this time around. Instead you feel warm and safe, and mildly irritated. You bury yourself farther into your blankets, only to hiss in pain. _Oh, yeah, I'm injured._ You remember a little too late.

"Awake?" War says suddenly.

"I miss the others." You murmur, pulling the blanket off your face.

"The others." He repeats.

"The other Horsemen. And my family, I guess, but I've sorta gotten used to missing them." You begin to wake up a bit more, sighing, "I never thought I'd miss Strife's ridiculous fucking armor."

"Does he still refuse to dress casually?" War snorts.

You roll your eyes, nodding in agreement. "And he's really cuddly, so it's like constantly sticking me. Still love him though." It takes you a second you realize you're over-sharing. Probably shouldn't have mentioned that.

He pauses, but thankfully doesn't press it, "How long were you there?"

"A little less than six months. I... We still don't know how I ended up here, in this dimension. The Council apparently sensed or saw me or something, and decided that I had to be brought in. Strife stayed with me in the Horsemen Realm and Fury joined us a week or two later."

"The Council didn't order him to stay with you?" War questions, his eyes narrowing.

You shrug and return to preparing for the day ahead, "Not directly. I think he feels responsible for my well being because he was the one to find me. The Watcher's were technically my caretakers though. They seemed to enjoy rounding up all my supplies a little too much if you ask me."

War falls silent while you nibble on your breakfast and explain, "So next we've gotta take out the Griever and chat with the Blackhammer, right? You think I can convince him to make me a pair of gloves or something? That demonic growth is disgusting." You shudder at the thought.

He looks his own claws over as you speak and then corrects you, "Gauntlets."

You press your lips into a thin line. "You guys act so similar sometimes."

His gaze flickers back to you, one eyebrow raised.

"Fury does that same thing. That motion." You elaborate, mimicking his actions. "It's just... Really cute that you actually act like siblings."

He scoffs at the word 'cute', turning towards the door. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Can... Can we stay here a little longer? I know you're anxious to finish this and all but I'm... Tired." You ask hesitantly, looking anywhere but directly at War.

"You weren't too tired to speak with Samael." He prompts, giving you an unimpressed glare.

You're not awake enough to rustle up the appropriate anger. "I... I'm trying to help, okay? I would rather not watch you die, regardless of the whether or not you stay dead. If I could tell you, I would." You say, looking down at your lap. "And it's not as if I like talking to Samael. It's like a verbal game of chess with him. Say one thing wrong and he'll grill me."

"You've seen my death?" War asks.

 _More than once, actually_. "You get stabbed. Right through the chest, like you did to Death." You press your hand to where the sword would be. "At least, that's what happens in canon. For all I know it could end up being me."

War snorts, apparently personally offended by that. "I would not allow that."

"Oh." Your lips curl into a soft smile. "Good. Now! Let's... Go get the Griever?"

"Death left a letter for you, actually." He says, moving to pluck your backpack off the ground. He pulls the paper out of a side pocket you never use, and you wonder when he put it in there.

He goes back to guarding the entrance while you read the latest letter, which is oddly short. He must be in the middle of something.

' _You're an idiot, and I assure you, War already knows of your injuries. He's not that dense._

_Vulgrim says War has already beaten Tiamat. Good job, I suppose. I just had a very interesting experience in the realm of the Dead. Would you believe I was unwelcome? Even Dust appears ill at ease here._

_However they did have information on the Well of Souls, which I'm sure you're excited by. You will not be the last human for much longer if all goes well.'_

"You know, for being a diehard pessimist, Death makes an effort to encourage me." You tell War, grabbing your journal.

"He views you as a younger sibling." War answers dryly.

You go stock still. "What?" Part of you is too startled by both War talking about feelings and the fact he just confirmed your favorite theory as far as Death is concerned. The other part is just _super fricken stoked_.

War raises his eyebrows. "What? You already know that."

"Well.. I hoped. It's just... Really nice to have you confirm it." You smile brilliantly.

You half expect Shadow to barge in and start ripping on you, but instead War smirks as if he knows more than he's letting on. Probably because he does. He turns away again while you begin writing your reply to Death.

' _Well, that's reassuring._

_And yes. We did indeed beat Tiamat and get this: I helped! Shadow was being a total pain in the ass, and somehow I knew how to use my anti-demon power. I'm still not sure how that worked, actually, but Tiamat lost a hand and War killed her not too long afterwards._

_Speaking of which, why does War have a thing for ripping the enemies wings off? He seems to have a thing for that. It's sorta weird. Not as weird as him talking about feelings though._

_He said that you think of me as a little sibling._

_I don't know why, but that makes me really happy. I'm just... I don't know._

_This is embarrassing._

You end it there, and debate for several moments whether or not you want to just tear off that last bit. Death knows you though, so you're sure it'll be fine.


	14. Relaxation?

You lied. _Oh, god_ , did you lie when you said 'it'll be fine'.

That _noise_ the fan makes is going to make your ears bleed. It's just so loud and abrasive and...

You are being carried.

"War." You say tersely, hands still clamped over your ears. The Horseman, at least, seems completely unaffected by the horrible sound. He must have super strong ear drums or something (which... you are aware is like the _dumbest_ Advanced Nephilim Bullshit you've heard of yet) because this is the second time this has happened.

You try not to make a face as he just shrugs, carrying you out of the room and down the hall. He only sets you down when the demons appear, and without the coordination necessary to help him with your head ringing like it is, you just skirt around the edges while he slaughters them.

He doesn't even try to scoop you up again, although you reach up to white-knuckle his pauldron after he breaks open the chest. It's just... Comforting to you, for whatever reason.

"You've gotta do some swimming." You say conversationally.

"And what of you?" He huffs, eyes narrowing as the tunnel system blends into lush greenery and then towering stone walls. You smile.

"Hopefully I can just admire the view." You have to admit, the harsh sunlight is a welcome sight after the week you've had though. "There's a chest in the Shadow Realm, by the way."

His bright eyes narrow. "More Shadow Realm?"

You raise your eyebrows, "You don't like the Shadow Realm? That's... Not good. Considering that's where the Armageddon blades pieces are hidden. That'll be a real pain..."

For the first time since you met War, your chain begins to burn.

Of course, your first reaction is to go completely rigid and hiss, "What the fuck!?"

War falls silent, and you know he's giving you a very confused look while you yank your shirt up over the chain. Sure enough, the skin is already starting to turn red. " _Ow, ow, ow_." You whine, scowling. 

It's not one of the worse ones, just a _warning_ , really, but it still hurts. 

"What... Did you do?" War asks, more confused than you've ever heard him.

You flinch when Shadow answers, having not noticed its appearance. "Even the Advisor has some limitations. It seems you've been a little too chatty." It laughs.

You grind your teeth and ignore it, instead pulling your shirt back down over the fresh burns and nodding at War. "Let's go. I can put burn stuff on it when you do the Shadow Realm. And maybe chat with Vulgrim."

His bright eyes narrow, but he doesn't contest your instructions. "Vulgrim is nearby?"

"Vulgrim is always nearby. He's like... Constantly tailing us, just waiting for you to get him more souls. You'd think he could just get his own with all the traveling he does." You distract yourself from the pain by talking.

"He's busy swindling others." War shrugs. He moves one hand towards you, and for a second you swear he's going to _offer_ to carry you without any real need and your heart does a flip, but demons begin rising out of the ground and the moment is lost.

 _Fucking demons_. Your lips pull back in annoyance as you grab your halberd off your back in one smooth motion. You bring it down on the nearest demon with all your strength, and it howls in pain. A shame you can't kill them in one hit. Although... That is a little ambitious given you're human and all.

And injured, as your waist is so happy to remind you.

Thankfully it doesn't take War long to steal your fight, and he makes very quick work of the demon.

You wince as you set the weapon down. "So..."

War raises his eyebrow.

You just shrug and continue down the winding path. It's nice that you can completely avoid the water. Well, _you_ can. War certainly can't, and the way he's eyeing the ledge, you get the feeling he wouldn't want to anyway.

"Are you gonna jump then or? Because there's treasure down there." You chirp helpfully, pausing to stare at him.

You have to admit his conflicted expression is pretty darn cute.

Finally he seems to make a decision, and nods for you to continue. "Be careful."

"Always." You respond breezily. One hand moves to your gun, just in case.

Thankfully the only thing in between you and the next gate keeper is a flock of crows, which you toss a few scraps of food at. They seem to pleased, you think. You get an uncomfortable pang in your chest though, remembering Dust. He always pecked at your cheek when you fed him, and you're almost certain that's the crow approximation of a kiss. It was cute, if not a bit painful.

Definitely not as painful as your waist currently is though.

You set down your temporary camp near the gate and on the edge of the little stream thing, immediately yanking off your shirt (you figure there's really no need for modesty at this point) and setting to slather burn heal on your injury.

After a few seconds of pawing through your backpack, you become a little worried though. _Fury did remember burn heal, right?_ She couldn't have just forgotten.

You distinctly remember her saying to use it first thing after a burn, to help prevent further scarring.

Biting down on your lip, you start taking out everything and setting them neatly off to the side. _It's gotta be here. Fury wouldn't..._

"What the hell?" You pluck the rather large object (wrapped meticulously in pale green paper) from the very bottom of your backpack.

 _So that's why Fury grabbed my bag for me_ , you realize abruptly. It had struck you as odd at the time, but Fury is always sending people secretive looks. It's sort of her thing. So this must be a gift then, huh?

You tear into the paper, smiling excitedly.

Your smile quickly turns to a confused pout though, twisting the gift around this way and that. "Is this..."

A _Polaroid_?

Where the hell did they get a Polaroid camera?

Something in the paper catches your eye, and you set the gift off to the side to read the small note. Thankfully your frantic tearing didn't damage it.

Fury's spiky handwriting greets you, although further down the page you see Strife's over the top calligraphy (which you're almost certain developed to irritate Death, because Strife has never struck you as someone who takes the time to add curls to his g's).

_The Watcher's found this a few weeks ago, but after learning its purpose I decided it was more suited for your journey than our Realm. Make sure to document your quest for the others and I!_

Strife writes _and your future progeny_ between the margins and you snort in amusement.

 _There's more film in one the the pockets, I'm sure you can find it. You probably won't need it, but I felt it best to be prepared. The Watchers claim this type of camera is sturdier than 'modern' varieties, but that is not an excuse to be reckless_.

Strife interrupts again, although this time it looks like Fury simply handed him the paper: _not that you need a reminder to be careful, right, little one? You're the most cautious thing on Earth._

Apparently sarcastic scripture runs in the family. You roll your eyes.  _Horsemen_.

Fury steals the paper back and finishes, _We wish you the best, and know we're thinking of you. (Especially Strife because he lo-_

The line goes flying off the page, and you picture Strife furiously tearing it out of her hands. You press you lips together in an attempt to stop yourself from smiling.

 _Nerds_ , you think, picking the camera back up. You've only handled one of these like... once, but it seems fairly simple. You hold it up and smile, hoping the angle isn't too wonky.

It occurs to you as you wave the picture around you're still shirtless, and gosh, do you hope that doesn't shove up in the photo. That would be _fun_ to explain. Strife would have a field day.

You pull on your shirt while you try to come up with a hypothetical explanation, your burns completely forgotten.

When War returns from his treasure hunt, you've taken at least ten photos of yourself and the surrounding area, and he looks awfully confused by how excited you are. "War! War, War, War, come here! I gotta get a picture of us both together."

You press close to the Horseman, smiling and laughing gleefully. "Smile!"

"Why?" War looks confused when you glance up at him, one eyebrow raised curiously.

You snap the picture.

* * *

You make sure War is around to 'summon' Vulgrim before he sets off to break the seals for the gate, although you're careful not to mention you literally cannot summon him on your own. That might give Shadow an edge you don't him it to have.

"Here!" You tell Vulgrim as soon as War is out of hearing distance, holding out your most recent letter. If it can really be called that. It's mostly just photos that you strung together with one of the ribbons Fury packed (she is 100% against you cutting your own hair on this journey, and threw those in for if it gets in the way).

The demon seems startled by your forwardness, laughing as he takes the offered letter. "And what is this? A family photo album?" He asks, flipping through.

The part of you that still retains a giant crush on the red rider immediately jumps to marrying into the family, picturing a cutesy domestic scene with War. Unrealistic, yes, but nonetheless enough to make your heart get all fluttery. Oh goodness.

Vulgrim seems to notice too, his grin widening. "Hit the nail of the head, did I?"

You blush furiously, "No! I just figured Death would wanna see War. You know, outside of the apocalypse." You try to play it off.

His voice is singsong as he responds, "He's going to see how lovesick you look, human."

"Lovesick? I do not!" You reply hotly, folding your arms across your chest.

Vulgrim holds up a picture of you and War, one of the many you'd snapped before he spoke with the gate. War doesn't appreciate your enthusiasm, but he also didn't complain when you practically crawled into his lap to get a good selfie.

"Look at that. You're starstruck and he's scowling." Vulgrim says airily.

"He's, like, always scowling though. I think that's just his face." You say, tilting your face away from the incriminating photo.

Vulgrim snorts in amusement, "Ahhh, I miss humanity. You're so interesting. Who in their right mind falls for a Horseman?"

You're sorta wondering the same thing.

You fall silent as Vulgrim continues to flip through your photos, occasionally making remarks on your photography skills (which are nonexistent, unfortunately). _Are_ you falling for the Horseman?

On one hand, it seems like the obvious answer is yes, you've always loved War, ever since playing Darksiders. But on the other, you've only loved War _the character_. Not the living, breathing person with you now, who may or may not hesitantly view you as a friend.

But, even with that distinction, there is no doubt you still foster a huge crush on him. Whether it is or will grow to be love is completely up in the air at this point.

 _Oh gosh_. You think dismally. _Oh, gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh._

You wish more fiercely than ever that you could contact the other two Horsemen. Surely one of them would know what to do, right? Strife, at least, could distract you from your mushy romantic feelings, and you're sure Fury would have some good advice on how to go about 'courting' War.

Not that you plan to court him.

Well.

Maybe not _right now?_

"Ugh." You groan, hiding your face behind your hands.

"Is the third kingdom crumbling?" Vulgrim teases.

"That was _rude,_ and like, not even that funny." 

"Oh, please. What do you expect, I _am_ a demon. And a merchant, not a comedian." He laughs, moving to pat the top of your head condescendingly. "Now, you must cheer up before your Horseman returns, human. He won't be in a buying mood if he sees you so sour."

"That's a real motivator." You snap, dripping with sarcasm.

"Indeed." He agrees as if you were sincere, and you don't have to look up to know he's got that infuriating smile on his face. _God damn demons_. Always trying to start something.

As you turn away from the merchant, you hear the tell tale sounds of the gate Construct beginning its departure. You also feel it, forcing you to pull your halberd off your back to lean on.

You wave when War makes it around the bend, his expression neutral as ever. "Ready to go?" You chirp.

"Yes. You talked to Vulgrim, I assume?" He means to ask if Death wrote back, you know.

Shaking your head, you shrug. "Yeah, but no reply. He's got things to do I guess. Apparently he's almost finished." Your knowledge of his timeline ends somewhere in Lostlight, but you know he apparently visits earth sometime after that, talks to Lilith, and then... You don't wanna think about that.

War narrows his eyes, "What troubles you?"

"Nothing! I mean," Your hands move to your waist, brushing the warm metal of your chain. "Nothing I can tell you, at least. And I already know its going to be resolved and I shouldn't worry about things that practically fix themselves but I just..."

The Horseman just shakes his head, moving to scoop you up. "Let's go."

"I can walk." You huff.

"But you cannot swim." He must've looked ahead before coming to retrieve you. Huh.

You just roll your eyes. "I can totally swim. Not as well as you can, admittedly. I'm more of pool party kind of swimmer."

War gives you a strange look, muttering something in that nephilim language.

You should really ask about that later. Request lessons or something. You know the first thing Strife would teach you are curses. You smile at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reader suffers so much they Deserve some time to take polaroids and realize Perhaps,, they still love War


	15. Hammer Time

"You ready?" You ask War, casually nodding towards the hammer. You're sure he's noticed the gun clutched in your hand, and he's just a bit wearier than you remember him being as he tries to grab the... Weapon? Tool? You don't know what to call it. A tool that can used as a weapon? 

"Come on! What are you waiting for!?" Shadow hisses.

You expect it, but that doesn't stop you from flinching when Ulthane begins, "You plan on usin them hands ever again..." War draws ChaosEater and yanks you off to the side, the sound prompting Ulthane to lazily glance up, "You'd best not go touchin that what ain't yers."

You remember this cutscene. But... He fuckin _kick flips_ _a car_ and you're not quite sure how to describe how terrifying and awesome it eyes go wide in amazement even as he moves threateningly closer.

"Ulthane." War greets, resting his sword on his shoulder. You anxiously shift closer to his side and he immediately shields you with his free hand as if its the most natural thing in the world. You're almost too surprised to notice Ulthane.

"You know me, but I don't know you. And I don't take kindly to strangers. Especially the uninvited kind." His gaze moves to Shadow, and it floats backwards. _Wimp._ "And maybe who you are don't matter as much as what you want."

"I've come for the Black Hammer." War responds calmly.

Ulthane laughs, "Really now!? Well, you're welcome to give it another go." He makes a vague motion to the hammer and begins to walk away. "But besides that, I best not catch you around here again."

War shoots you a look and you nod. _Yes. You're right._

"It's you." He says confidently, and both Shadow and you make to leave.

"What was that?" The Maker growls. A clear challenge.

"The Black Hammer. It's you." War restates.

Shadow escapes into its gauntlet while you settle for the far wall, although you take care to stay away from the glowing rocks that remind you of candles. They _smell_ like candles too, like something burning, mixed with the scent of the all-too-pretty wildflowers that dot the landscape. 

You pluck one, trying to drudge up your botany knowledge in order to give it a name and purposely ignoring the smack down currently being held about ten yards away. 

All thoughts of flowers go flying out the window when you hear wing beats. You press yourself against the door, trying to be inconspicuous as possible. One hand moves to your halberd pole while the other holds you gun. _Angels have weaker hides, but they wear armor. Make your shot count._

"I ain't been tagged like that in years!" Ulthane laughs, apparently completely oblivious. Figuring they can't hear over War kicking ass, you let it slide.

And the lightning bolt certainly gets their attention.

"One hundred years..." Uriel starts, descending onto a car right between War and yourself. _And the door_ , you suppose. The former makes you more anxious though. Thankfully no angel seems to have noticed your presence yet.

"Since the day Abbadon was taken from us." You roll your eyes. "I have prayed for this moment." Uriel says, pointing her blade at War.

 _Who do angels even pray to? God? Each other_? You frown, watching Ulthane pull away. For being a huge guy, he sure can move. He scales the nearest building with apparent ease while Uriel goes through her usual speech, his hammer in one hand.

_How the hell?_

"For your crimes, I would see you tried at the White City. But until the world is freed of the Destroyer, its gates are closed to us. Justice will not wait. I sentence you _here and now_." She really should've seen War's block coming. She blew her chance at a sneak attack attack all.

Your hands fly up to protect yourself as the hammer comes crashing down (you're almost positive you get bled on anyway). Uriel is sent a fair amount backwards by the shockwave, and once again you try to press yourself into the door. _Don't notice me._

"Yer justice can wait til we're done with our scrap, missy. There's no sport in jumpin into a tussle that don't involve you. Go on! Fly away, pigeons! 'Fore I pluck ya!" Ulthane yells.

You can't help but laugh, smothering the noise with your gun free hand. _Oh, Ulthane. I would trust you to build a universe._

Uriel twirls in place, her gold eyes fixating on you. "The human." She says slowly. Her gaze flickers in War's direction before returning to you. He's still focused on the angel accusing Ulthane of blasphemy.

 _Oh, fuck_.

"Don't." You warn, aiming between her eyes.

She appears undaunted and simply flits closer, watching you with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "What are you doing here? Humanity was slaughtered. And helping _that?_ You know he's the reason you're alone."

 _First of all, that's no way to greet somebody. And second, that was straight up rude_. You want to shoot her then and there, but your hands are shaking and you know you'd miss. "He's the reason I'm here." You hiss, tilting your head up proudly. "I'm an Advisor, and I'm telling you, War is not the enemy."

"An Advisor," She tilts her head and smiles amusedly. "Is that the 'title' they've given you? What do you have that benefits the Horsemen?"

"Captain!" One of the other angels yells, interrupting your snappy reply.

Ulthane's hammer comes down directly where Uriel was only milliseconds before, and you're yanked into what could almost be called a hug by your Horseman. Your forehead cracks against one of the metal bits adorning him, but you're too thankful to be away from Uriel to think much of it.

Your vision goes a little fuzzy when you try to look up at War though, and that's... concerning. War's expression goes from irritated to worried to a strange combination of both as you try to focus, asking, "What?"

"You consider that cautious?" He prompts.

You have the decency to look sheepish, at least.

"Come on, stranger!" Ulthane orders, pausing before adding, "The little one too."

 _Little one_. Is that your destined nickname? You feel a laugh bubbling in your throat as you pull away from War, and you flash the Old One a smile as you slip between the heavy doors.

"So, who's winning?" You ask, looking up at the sky.

It's only a matter of seconds before more angels descend, and Ulthane smugly says, "Six to eight."

You keep away from the middle of the fight, only shooting when one tries to hit War with their lightning or you spot one without a helmet. Damn angels, so heavily armored. When you do find one without proper headgear, it falls right out of the sky when you shoot and War finishes it off.

"Does that count as half or do I get full points?" You ask, honestly interested in their response.

War just shakes his head, while Ulthane pauses his slaughter to laugh. "I'd say halfa one."

You smile and your halberd makes a pleased hum. This makes you smile even brighter. "You didn't even do anything," You say, pulling it off your back. "Slacker."

The hum becomes more dramatic and _violent_. "Oh." Is all you can mange for a second. _Right... Nephilim weapon_. "Blood thirsty" is to be expected. _Well._

The next time an angel gets near (shoved over here by a particularly rough hit from War), you don't hesitate to slash away at it.

War is glaring when you glance up, but the angel is dead and your weapon is sparkling brilliantly. You mouth the word 'sorry', only for Ulthane to yell the two of you over the the next door. "Twelve to nine, and one and a half." He says as you dart ahead.

You would be pleased, but War is still scowling and you know that'll be a pain in the ass later. ' _What did I say, Advisor?_ ' Ugh.

This round, you do a much better job of staying out of the fray, and only shoot once. Afterwards Ulthane moves to the ledge, and grins wickedly. "Come on, stranger. You first."

War seems to have no problem trusting the Maker to throw him across the gap and into the gap, while you could not by any more uncomfortable. The Horseman goes flying out of sight in a graceful arch, leaving you staring at Ulthane with wide eyes.

He grins and holds out his large hand. "Well?"

"I..." You start, trying to come up with an excuse. "Okay." You finally sigh. Carefully stepping onto his palm and mentally preparing yourself. _Just remember what Fury taught yo-_

"Hey! Hope you can catch!" Ulthane yells at War, sending you hurtling through the air.

 _Oh god oh god oh godohgod_. You don't even have enough time to scream between trying to properly angle yourself and attempting to scrounge up that light of yours. _Just in case._

You've only just begun to feel the warmth when War catches you, and although metal isn't the nicest of materials to land in, you're _extremely_ thankful. You press close to the Horseman as you get your bearings, shivering with a strange mixture of fear and excitement.

You should really be used to being thrown through the air at this point, but it never fails to mess you up.

He sighs, very carefully setting your trembling form down on the floor (which... gross, but okay). "Angels." War says, seeing your expression. It takes you a second to realize your eyes are watering.

"It's just- shock." You stumble over your words as he turns to the enemies.

 _Oh jeez._ You know logically a few stray tears won't change War's opinion of you, but that doesn't stop you from being embarrassed.

You get the feeling its going to be a long day.

* * *

"Tired?" War asks, his voice betraying amusement.

"Exhausted." You can't see his face from your usual spot on his back, but you lazily smile anyway. He seemed startled when you asked, but after explaining there's no more Hellguard peeps he let you up. He also didn't understand your pun, which is a tragedy.

"What're you doin here anyway?" Ulthane asks, casting you a curious glance. He seemed to stay nearby after the last angels were killed (War won by a total of three angels and you obviously came in last with three and a half) just to chat, which you don't think he did in game. Granted, it's a rather large hill. You can't imagine even him jumping up the side.

"Me? I'm an Advisor. I make the game-plan and whatnot. Council's got me on a leash." You move one hand to rattle your belt, although the effect is lost by a yawn. _Damn game made the travel time seem so quick._ Although, maybe it is! _For a Horseman_. "War..."

"I know. You must rest before we take the next Chosen's heart." His free hand moves up, and for a split second you think he's gonna affectionately pat your head, but he simply repositions your grip on him. "Humans." He adds on grumpily, as if he's trying to make up for caring for you.

You all but melt.

"Yer not a human." Ulthane scoffs, his eyes narrowing.

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your face towards him curiously. "Huh?"

"Not fully at least." He makes a face. "Who made you? Was it that demon again?"

Your sleepiness disappears for the time being, replaced by utmost interest. "I... I don't know? Not Lilith, that's for sure. That would make things real weird, to be honest." _You know, because of the I wanna kiss her 'son' thing_. "I think I'm from a parallel universe, actually, so maybe something over there? Or something... Bigger than what's in both universes?"

It's nice to talks theories again. War doesn't usually participate when you start speculating about your origins.

"Like _what_?" Ulthane appears unsettled by the idea.

Your little group as finally reached the end of the trail though, and you wait for him to open the doors before responding, "I know a lot of things I really shouldn't, but that's not one of em." You frown, shifting higher up to look over War's shoulder.

You're unsurprised as Uriel once again glides down from above. "You'll go nowhere, Horseman! You cannot escape your fate. Abaddon will be avenged."

You lean forward and whisper, "She's lying."

War snorts, and moves to unpry your fingers from his armor. "Stay with the Old One."

You, for the probably the first time ever, do exactly as he requests and quietly sit (standing is becoming rather painful) by Ulthane as War fights Uriel. You've gotta admit she's pretty gutsy, trying to take on one of the Riders singlehandedly. They're both extremely honorable people though. War's all _proper_ when it comes to picking fights. Fury is the same, she only kills those she sees as deserving. Strife and Death are sorta... Ambiguous.

You sigh in relief when Uriel is flown away, while Ulthane just seems amused. "Ah, could be you really are who you say. Those pigeons seemed mighty convinced and you got them vouching for ya-" He nods towards yourself, and you grin. "But I ain't so sure. So once again, you know me, but I still," He slams the hammer down (which you most certainly expect and _do not_ flinch because of), "Don't know you."

War seems less than concerned. "The Griever's Lair."

"...The Griever's beyond here." Ulthane seems to make some sort of decision, and leads the two of you over to the door, "Had to seal these passages up tight to keep her pets outta my yard. Little bastards kept droppin by uninvited, taking things what don't belong to 'em." Ulthane shoves War away, and you have never seen the Horseman look _so offended_.

You press your lips together to keep from laughing, bringing you hand up to your mouth. _Fuck, that's cute_.

Sometimes you find it very hard to believe he's the embodiment of warfare, especially when he looks like an irritated kitten, glaring at the Maker vehemently. "I am who I claim to be," He says, eyes narrowing.

"You kill that Griever. You make it back out 'o that hole at all, that'll be proof enough." Ulthane decides, opening the door up.

You hesitate, glancing between Ulthane and War anxiously. The Horseman doesn't even check to make sure you're coming, apparently expecting it.

You sigh.

"Then, I promise, we'll have words." Ulthane finishes as you enter the lair. "Now, get offa my property! Before more pigeons come lookin to crap in me yard."

Shaking your head, you quip, "What a way with words he has."

"The Old Ones aren't known for their tact." War responds, pausing when you grab at his pauldron. He raises an eyebrow.

"I'm tired." You say, as un-whiney as you can manage.

War smirks. "What do you want me to do then, Advisor?"

You blink. _Is... Is he teasing me?_ Your lips twist into a smile despite your annoyance. "War, come on." You say, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

He remains silent, simply watching you with those unnervingly bright eyes and smug grin. You would be more excited by the fact _he's actually smiling_ if it weren't at your expense.

"...carry me." Your voice is barely audible and you've resorted to looking at the cracks in the floor, but you know War is proud of himself. He scoops you up without any more delay, and begins the long, _long_ trek over the the main area.

Once he jumps down and you hear water all around you, it becomes much harder to keep your eyes open. It's just so calming.

"Advisor." War says. "Stay awake."

"You broke your promise." You answer lamely. You don't need to open your eyes to see the scowl, but he doesn't disagree either.

You're on the edge of sleep by the time War makes it to the main area, but the smell instantly banishes any plans of a catnap. Your nose wrinkles immediately. "Put me down." You request, words slurred together with tiredness.

War sets you down with a snort, one clawed hand resting on your hip just a bit longer than you think is necessary. "Are you certain you're well?" He asks.

"'M fine." You wave off his concerns, moving to use your halberd as a walking stick. "I'll stay here for now though. Have fun."

He raises a single eyebrow, "With?"

"The Griever, obviously. Any good hostess will greet their guests." You joke.

He exhales loudly, and you turn your attention to your backpack. _It'll take him a few minutes to scare her off, right?_ Surely that's long enough for you to fix yourself a quick dinner and chug a water bottle full of pink lemonade. Bless whoever made those insta packets of water flavoring.

The seal goes up as you shake your water, painting the walls a violent red. Only slightly more orange than War's cape-thing. _He must really like red_ , although you suppose that could just be because of his 'theme.'

He did say 'yellow' back at Tiamat's place though... Your eyes narrow as you recall the strange remark.

Huh.

You shrug it off after a moment and return to scarfing down your meal, which mostly consists of uber healthy and not likely to spoil 'super foods'. Strife got a little too into planning your journey, if you're honest. He does seem the most knowledgable about human things though, while Death is apathetic at best and Fury is thoroughly baffled.

She tried to make up for her confusion by wholeheartedly throwing herself into helping you cook, which ended _horribly_ and only succeeded in making her feel worse. Strife wasn't too happy either, because he actually enjoys human food.

The _Horsemen of the Apocalypse_ really shouldn't be so goddamn cute, honestly. It's just not fair.

You're packing back up when War returns, Shadow hissing about finding her again. You wait until it retreats again to ask, "Looks fun, right?"

"Those crystals." He replies, tilting his head. "You mentioned a weapon that could break them."

 _War is no fool_. You nod. "It's farther in the dungeon. It's a gauntlet of somesor-" You cut yourself off, having a sudden realization. "I forgot to ask Ulthane for gloves." Holding up your noticeably bare hands, you pout. "And this place is _full_ of demonic growth." 

"And water, it seems." He says lightly. Light for _War_ , at least.

"Do your Horseman sense tell you that, or did I mention it?" Swinging your back pack on, you begin moving on ahead.

"I can hear it." He says, following your lead.

It takes you a second. _How the fuck?_ How over powered _are_ nephilim? "...So, Horseman sense, technically." You take a moment to enjoy the scenery before actually proceeding, purposely neglecting the angel corpses.

 _Right or left?_ You think right is first... "There's a chest behind the clock." You tell him, still trying to decide. Eventually you just go with your gut and choose right.

Throwing the doors open, you're met with a huge wall of demonic growth, underneath which looks like steaming water.

" _Fuck_."

You turn your glare onto the Horseman when he approaches, and he blinks. "Advisor?" You point to the hallway and War's lips twitch, an obvious _don't smile_ movement.

"I hate the Griever and everything she stands for." You snap.

War's claws nudge your shoulder blade when you don't immediately begin to climb, but he doesn't verbally tell you to get a move on and you're thankful. Digging your fingers into the slimy, disgusting mess is unpleasant enough without being scolded.

It isn't until you manage to get all the way to the gap that you find yourself wondering how the hell you're going to do this. You can't both jump and get a grip on the growth before gravity takes its toll.

"Don't move." War sighs, obviously noticing the problem.

A clawed hand snakes around your prone form and you go completely rigid.

He's big enough that he doesn't touch you at all as he passes over you and makes the jump you can't, but it's... It is enough to render you useless. You can feel a red hot blush crawl up your neck and face, and you're _positive_ that does not escape War's notice.

He holds out his hand, and you get the picture.

"Ohhhh." You nod, biting down on your lip. _Okay, just.._. You go for it.

There's barely a pause between the jump and War's arm wrapping around your waist, and for that you're thankful. He doesn't seem to have an issue with holding you up either, but you try to get a grip as soon as possible for your sake.

He releases his hold when he's sure you're relatively stable, and the two of you continue on in silence. The 'main' room is bigger than you remember from the game, practically gymnasium sized but taller.

"There's a switch over there that triggers the fire." You tell War absently, staring down at the water. You can't see the bottom despite its clarity.

You hear him take a few steps and then a loud splash, so you figure he's already on top of it. _Just like he was on top of us, ayyy?_ some part of you laughs. You frown to yourself.  _Dammit._

 _Gotta work on being more lowkey_ , you decide, pressing a hand to your burning cheek. _Gotta work on that... Magic light too._

You hold your hands out in front of yourself and try to concentrate on the light. Nothin.

 _What do they always say in those magic shows? Visualize it?_ You try that too, and a spark goes off between your forefingers. Or a lightning bolt, more appropriately. Not unlike the angel's, although yours is more of a washed out peach color. Theirs is just gold.

"Oh my god." Who fuckin knew?

You try again, wanting to figure out how to do the blanket thing you did back at the cathedral. The one that protected you from the fall, and you suspect, kept Tiamat from straight up slashing you in half.

It just sparks irritably, now much more pronounced. As if its saying _try and make me._

You really should've expected this. You would do the exact same thing if someone wanted you to play defense without a dire need.

 _Well_... At least with all the swimming War will have to do without you, there's plenty of time for you to practice. If only you had opted to stay in the front room, where there's no bugs. This place does smell nicer though, without the acrid scent of decomposition. It can't be healthy to breathe in that air.

You can add that to the growing list of "Things I never thought I would have to worry about".

Right next to War and his Crossblade flying dangerously close to your outstretched hands. Making a loud, ridiculously unattractive squawking noise, your light envelops you in an instant.

"War!" You yell, only met by laughter.

War. _Laughing_.

You're too startled to maintain your angry act, and War looks just as shocked when it catches up (along with the Crossblade). His eyes brighten like they did when Tiamat fell, and you think maybe that's the Horseman equivalent of pupils dilating.

You slowly bring your hands up to your mouth, your smile a mile wide.

Oh, you could definitely get used to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not sure if i ever actually explain readers Weird Light Thing in the notes of the og fic but basically: Reader's magic is bc they were from "our world" and then brought to the darksiders universe. the Council then amplified that latent ability, just like they did to the Four! 
> 
> also, i just liked the idea of Reader having /something/ that gave them an edge combat wise aside from their training, and magic!Reader figuring out their weird new powers is fun to write. 
> 
> happy early halloween!!


	16. Sleepy, but Triumphant

"Advisor." War greets, practically covered head to toe in blood. There's an aura about him that makes you feel uncomfortable, and it only takes a second for you to realize its the second Chosen's heart.

It had taken him hours to get everything finished, even with you yelling instructions when he was nearby enough. In the downtime you head made quite a bit of headway with your light, to the point you could zap a few of the bugs that came nearby. Granted, it just stunned them for a few seconds rather than outright killing them, but it gave you enough time to shoot em all down. You could've used your halberd, you know, but the idea of allowing dog sized bugs that close grosses you out.

It was _boring_ to be honest. But you know it's for the best if you want to stay alive. The Stygian will probably require you to be a little more hands on though, and you're totally looking forward to that.

Not to mention _Ruin_.

You smile at the thought, glancing up at War excitedly. "Horseman."

He simply raises an eyebrow. "You do not usually use my title."

"Exactly." You hold your arms out expectantly. "Come on! We gotta go! First talk to Ulthane and then Samael and then we're going to the Ashlands and I should probably put on some better clothes because its gonna be all ashy and..."

You ramble on and on as War places you on his back and begins the trek back to the surface. Most of which is just half-asleep plans for the future and trying to tell him about Ruin without actually telling him.

He's not much for keeping the conversation going though, and eventually your exhaustion gets the better of you. You're pretty sure it's sometime between the main clock area and the final growth wall before the end.

You're only disturbed once, hearing a loud crash that has you blearily trying to open your eyes, but War's usual slightly angered voice lulls you back into slumber. You're pretty sure at one point War sets your down, and you whine about being "uncomfy" too.

All you know _for sure_ is that someone is touching your hands when you wake up, which you _do not_ like, and War uses your name to calm you down. You relax again after a moment, blinking awake. War is off to one side, near enough to set you at ease at least, and Ulthane is the one messing with your hands. He looks to be comparing your ring fingers to a claw of some kind and...

"Oh!" You squeak, glancing around for your backpack. Fury will definitely want a picture of this. "Thank you so much."

Your hands are already half covered in armor, seemingly perfectly shaped to your forearm with room to maneuver, and the smooth material separating your skin and the metal isn't anything to scoff at either. You do notice that's it an off white rather than black like War's. And Uriel's, you suppose.

War seems to understand the puppy dog eyes you're sending him after a moment, and begrudgingly clicks a picture of your hands. He handles the camera with surprising gentleness, and you have to wonder if that's for your benefit or because he doesn't want to be the one to face Fury's wrath if its broken. Either one is endearing.

"So..." You start, glancing the Old One.

"Yer Horseman said you wanted some claws an I figure anything your size makin it through the Griever's Lair deserves at least that." He shrugs.

"I didn't really do much aside from dodge and complain." You laugh, yawning. "Geez. How long was I out?" You try stretching out your back without moving your hands too much, the loud cracking noise making both the Maker and Horsemen flinch. You snicker.

War looks downright perturbed, while Ulthane just grunts, "Doesn't that hurt?"

"'Course not. It's just, like, air bubbles between the joints popping or something." You shrug and Ulthane sends you a glare for moving. "Sorry."

"Stop movin." He replies. "I'm almost done."

You glance at War, who's still mildly disgusted with your human back-cracking. "You know, I think Strife thought I was dying the first time I cracked my neck. Never heard Death laugh so hard, to be honest."

This grants you a tiny smile, and a boisterous laugh from Ulthane. "Those Horsemen don't get out much, eh?"

"Only when murder is involved." You shrug. "Strife hangs with humanity sometimes. He thinks they're cute or something, the patronizing bastard. Death is gonna be spending some time on Earth soon though, or he has already?" You don't know what exactly he's been up to, timeline wise. "He's gotta collect a staff or something. Rod of Arafef or something. I don't know."

"Arafel." The Maker corrects with a snort. "It's angelic. They never do keep good track of their toys."

"Strife is the same way." You hum, glancing around the workshop. "Did you know... That the Maker's forge is up and running again?"

His fingers falter a bit. "Can't say I did. What of it?"

"Just thought I'd inform you. Death opened it back up. He's gonna kill the Corruption, too." You respond airily. "Or, kill it _again_ I suppose."

"Not even a Horseman can kill corruption, little one." Ulthane sighs, clicking your claws into place. After a few more adjustments he lets you flex your fingers out and you nearly squeal in excitement.

"Fuck yeah." You laugh, curling your fingers experimentally. The joints spike out when you do so, and making a fist just became lethal. You can punch em in the face _and_ cut them.

Ulthane laughs. "I take it yer satisfied then?"

"Of course! Gosh, thank you so much!" You cheer, barely able to contain yourself. "Wait, wait, I gotta make sure..." You start, grabbing your halberd off the ground. It's a little harder to get a grip at first, but Ulthane instructs you on the proper way to hold it when you slip. It's not harder. Just not what you're used to.

War remains quiet while you relearn to hold your halberd, only mentioning leaving once. He's actually a fairly patient person, although you're sure the leeway would disappear if you were ever to mention it.

At one point Ulthane asks about your halberd too, and you simply raise your eyebrows in confusion.

"That's an old nephilim weapon, ain't it? Too big for you at that. Where'd someone like you get it?" He elaborates, and it hums in irritation. You assume it takes offense to being called too big. Sure, it's taller than you are, but its _yours_.

"Death gave it to me." You say slowly, "Why do you ask?"

He shrugs, apparently satisfied with that answer. "Saint's Wing." He says matter-of-factly, eyes still on your weapon.

"What?" Is all you can manage, thoroughly confused.

He seems to think its awfully amusing, laughing as he explains, "That's what it's called. It's right there. Probably made to kill angels. Those nephilim had a... Strange sense of irony."

It's not a big leap to say 'strange' is used to replace 'weird as fuck'.

You look at War for confirmation, but he's too busy scowling at Ulthane. The Maker simply continues eyeing your weapon, as if he's mentally resizing it to properly fit your proportions.

"I don't like it." You finally say, your voice cutting through the silence. It's actually a very pretty name but... It's not yours. "I'm gonna pick my own name, for my weapon." You add, the tiniest bit petulant.

It might be a nephilim made weapon, but you're the one wielding it and the _only_ human to do so.

And... You sort of planned on picking a name anyway. You've narrowed it down quite a lot since you first asked War about, but nonetheless. You're rather fond of two word names apparently.

"I'm sure you'll have time to figure it out, after you and yer horseman get off my property." Ulthane says, bringing you back from your thoughts.

You roll your eyes in response. "Oh, god, not you too." _He's not my Horseman, he's his own Horseman._

And he'll be a free one, at that, if all goes according to plan.

Fuck the Council.

"Whatever you want to tell yourself." Ulthane responds, making shooing motions. If it were anyone else, you would probably say they looked super uncool. But it's Ulthane, and somehow he makes it seem vaguely threatening. "Now _get out_."

Snorting, you pluck your bag off the ground and put your halberd onto your back. "We'll come and see you soon, don't worry." You hum, looking at War and holding out your hand.

He narrows his eyes in response, "Don't make such promises, Advisor. He has a part in this."

You blink, simply waiting with your arm outstretched. You assume he debates leaving you to walk on your own as the seconds tick by, but he does eventually scoop you up.

"Thank you." You murmur, one arm snaking around his neck before you rest your head against his less spike-y pauldron. Honestly, you and Fury had planned on you doing a lot more running than this. Not that you'll complain. War's usual half-jog is probably faster than your run anyway. Dude is freaken huge.

"He sorta fucked up, but he's useful later, you know." You say as soon as the door slams behind the two of you. You're momentarily distracted by the waterfalls surrounding the Maker's home, eyes wide in amazement.

Then War lifts his brand new gun and you say, "Don't you dare shoot one of those birds, War, I swear to god." Okay, maybe _god_ isn't the scariest thing to a nephilim, but the point stands.

He glances at you curiously. "You're fond of crows too?"

"I'm fond of birds in general. They're feathery and cute and occasionally terrifying. What's not to love?" You stretch out and pull his arm down (which you know you wouldn't have been able to do without War's cooperation), huffing loudly. "Freakin Horsemen."

War doesn't respond, and you pout irritably until you reach one of the gates and he's forced to set you down to open it. You continue the rest of the way to Vulgrim on foot, flexing your new claws all the while. They feel nice, at least. And having them gives you a greater sense of confidence. No lower demon is going to get the jump on you, no siree. Not like when you first arrived.

The memory makes you pause, trying to remember what your first words with Strife were. Something about War, you know, complete with the Strife typical cursing.

It's quite the shock to realize you've already started to forget semi-important things like that, and your eyes go wide. What were you doing before being thrown in here anyway?

It's getting hazier, to be perfectly honest. Good thing you keep a journal for the future, you suppose.

And speaking of the future... War is almost halfway there, right? _Huh_. You consider what's next on the list, and mentally go through your clothing selection for what would be best for the Ashlands. Getting covered in the ashes of your slaughtered kind doesn't sound like a fun time, despite its inevitability.

"Advisor?" War suddenly asks.

You glance at him sharply, "What?"

He motions to the portal to the Serpent Paths, one side of his mouth twitching like he wants to smile.

 _Oh, goodness, is that cute_. It takes you a moment to respond, and Vulgrim is cackling in the background. "Oh. Yeah!" You agree. "Sorry, I was... Trying to... Never mind."

War, at least, doesn't pry, while Vulgrim is drumming his fingers excitedly when you glance over at him. "Something you'd like to share, human?" He hums.

You only manage a scowl before War is pulling your through the portal and out of his sight. "He is not worth your time." The Horseman chides.

" _You_ are not about to scold _me_ for starting fights," You deadpan.

"I wouldn't call it scolding." He responds, too smug than justifiable.

You lapse into silence as the two of you make your way to Samael's prison, only to be greeted with, "Did you enjoy yourself? War and the Blackhammer, 'plucking pigeons'. I heard even the human helped out."

He turns his gaze to you briefly, sizing you up. You're beginning to wonder if he's just a little _too_ interested in you, honestly. Maybe it's just the novelty aspect. Nonetheless, you click your new claws together (which could probably be interpreted as a mild threat) and move closer to War. The Watcher does the same, although you're not quite sure why.

"You see a great many things from inside a prison, Samael." War responds flatly.

"There is little you can keep from me, Horseman, once I have a mind to know it." The demon claims, stomping towards your little group.

"And what do you know of Uriel?" War asks as Samael takes the heart from him. You're thankful to be rid of that horrible thing.

At least Samael doesn't look at you as he laughs, "Oh, I thought the Horsemen were above such... Earthly pursuits."

"I'm not." You argue lightly, unimpressed by his less than original suggestion. As if _War_ is really the type.

There's a beat of silence, broken by Samael's grating laughter. "Of course you aren't." He responds.

"But she's sorta accusing War of killing Abbadon so..." You prompt.

Samael gets back to the main point of this conversation fairly quick, turning his eyes on War and explaining, "The Hellguard worshipped their fallen leader and lord. And Uriel... Some say her admiration was less than professional."

You roll your eyes, although none of your companions pay it any mind.

"And she will stop at nothing to punish the one responsible." Samael warns, glancing over at you. Remembering the Death Oath you spoke of, most likely. You shrug in return. Not quite yet.

"I fought the demon that killed Abbadon, and he will be punished." War states it like a fact, completely sure of himself.

You can't help but wonder what that kind of self confidence is like. _Must be pretty great,_ you figure. Here you are, second guessing your every move and constantly worrying about dying or messing up the timeline, while War is just... Totally sure that he can do this.

"Straga is the strongest of the Chosen. No doubt you'll face him again, he draws power from the spire and won't stand to be away from it for long." Samael says, rehashing things you've known forever. "With all that I've taught you, you might even survive the encounter."

War scoffs at that, but at least he doesn't try to pick a fight. "What heart will you have, demon?"

"The Stygian is king of the ancient worms that now plague the Ashlands. It won't be easy, the worms grow well in such fertile ground." Samael continues, as if vague warnings would dissuade War.

"Fertile?" The Horseman repeats.

"All the humans are fucking _dead_ , War, and they're feeding off them." You say, trying and failing to reign in your bitterness. It's so _gross_.

Samael snorts, "I could not have worded it better myself, human. However, you may be in luck. It seems some fool demons have taken to capturing the worms for sport. And they hunt... Other creatures."

You feel a smile appear, and you nudge War meaningfully. He glances down at you with one eyebrow raised.

"The strongest are made to fight in cruel arenas. The demons seek to tame the Stygian, not knowing that within the creature beats the black Heart of a Chosen." Samael appears undaunted by your interruption, dead set on explaining everything.

War tears his gaze away from you, asking, "How do the demons avoid the Ashworms?"

"You know of the Chronospheres?" Samael responds.

"A gift of The Old Ones. It is said to master the Chronosphere is to master time itself. One could stop time, or even move it forward or back." War replies, his eyes narrowing.

You almost add 'like Death', but you figure that would mean a lot of explaining and admitting that you never finished Death's storyline. That would be embarrassing.

"Indeed. None of the Old Master's exist, but the demons have learned to use them to a lesser degree." Samael confirms.

"Hacked." You mumble, taking a few steps away from War. Instead you stand by Shadow, who has been weirdly quiet during this conversation. It seems pretty interested, just not... Talkative.

"I can grant you a basic understanding of Chronospheres. It won't be much. Perhaps just enough to avoid the worms." He says, doing just that. The bright blue makes you glance away, hissing about wanting to keep your eyesight.

"Is magic just naturally glowy?" You ask out loud, not really expecting an answer.

"It varies from type to type." Shadow says.

You nod in acknowledgement, wondering if it's going to continue. It glances at you curiously when you do so, tilting its head. That, at least, is familiar. The other Watcher's used to do that too.

"Certain races can do different types of magic, but most focus on one group. The Horsemen's were amplified by the Council." It explains, only to pause. "Humans are not supposed to be able to do any."

There's really not anything you can say that's not sassy in return, so you just shrug. Its right, after all.

War taps your shoulder on his way out of the prison, apparently having used up his allotted words per day. You follow him nonetheless, and cheer, "Are you ready, Horseman?"

There's a pause, and you think he's not going to answer only for him prove you wrong with, "Don't you need rest?"

"Nah. I slept pretty good while Ulthane got my claws all set up. I think I'm good to go. And..." You smile brilliantly. "We've kept him waiting long enough, don't you think?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Reader gauntlets i picture them looking v similar to either Hawke's (da2) or the daedric gauntlets (elder scrolls) only in silver!! theyre pretty, deadly, & functional! 
> 
> are yall ready for Ruin???


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